


Surviving Crossroads (Revised)

by HorrorWh0re



Category: Dawn of the Dead (2004)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Dawn of the Dead, Death, Developing Relationship, Don’t copy to another site, Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship, Gore, Horror, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Infected, Mentions of miscarriage, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Survival Horror, Undead, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 76,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorrorWh0re/pseuds/HorrorWh0re
Summary: Witnessing everyone around her eating one another, Angela Brown fled her home and took safety at the Crossroads Mall, under CJ's watchful eye. With a new character added into the story of this zombie apocalypse, changes take place and more insight is added to the story, especially with one certain security guard.(Formally known as 'Among the Dead')





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to revise this old story as a way to get back into my hobby of writing, improving the story line, grammar, etc - giving it a polish. Dawn of the Dead is one of my favourite films and it inspired this fun little story I created years ago, wanting to delve deeper into the groups relationships in the mall and exploring a new character's story, as well as a romantic relationship with CJ. 
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoy, thanks!

Time seemed to move slow for Angela Brown as she stared up at the clock. Setting her pen down, she began thrumming her fingers on the old, wooden desk, looking down at the homework sheets she just marked. Whispers and mumbles filled the large classroom, her students busy completing their set worksheets, though Angela didn't mind the quiet chatter, hating a silent classroom. Feeling her heavy eyelids droop, she abruptly sat up upright, taking a needed sip of coffee. She couldn't wait until the last bell would ring; today had been a long day filled with non-stop work.

Sighing under her breath, she picked up her pen and continued to mark homework while avoiding looking at the time.

For ten minutes, she littered red ticks or crosses across the sheets, completing the last one in that pile in time with the shrill shriek of the school bell, though it sounded like music to her ears. Students were quick to jump out of their seats, a chorus of chairs scraping and animated conversations filling the classroom. Shoving the now-marked homework sheets in their folder, Angela stood from her desk, gently stretching her back while walking to the front of the classroom.

“Remember class, the deadline for the Shakespeare presentation is tomorrow afternoon. The principle is coming here to watch you all present them, so memorise your notes and be prepared.”

Sighs and moans followed her announcement, students suddenly looking worried, even panicked. Angela only smiled with a shake of her head.

“If you need some help making last-minute adjustments, come to my room at lunch and I'll help, _even though_ this is an independent project.”

All her students perked up, some sighing with relief, even thanking her. Fortunately for Angela, she was a well-respected teacher, by her students and fellow faculty members; everyone seemed to appreciate her, which made her job as a teacher much more bearable.

“Oh, Heather,” Angela said, quickly stopping the black-haired girl just before she left the room, “do you happen to know why Veronica was absent today?”

The teenager glanced worriedly at her best friend’s empty desk and Angela knew something was wrong. Biting her lip, Heather hesitated, looking around before lowering her voice for only her teacher to hear.

“Someone tried to break into her house last night, some crazy guy banging on the windows– he attacked her dad when he went downstairs to confront him.”

“What!” Angela whispered, careful not to let the other students hear her shock and leaned in closer. “Oh, my God, is she okay?”

“Yeah, kinda’,” Heather looked behind her again before stepping closer to her teacher. “The guy was insane – chased Veronica’s dad around the house and kept trying to bite him or something, so he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and stabbed the guy. The police came, her dad had to go to hospital… Veronica’s at her aunt’s house now because she’s too scared to stay at home.”

“Understandably,” Angela said, astonished at what she just heard, rubbing a hand over her eyes to clear her head. “Jesus, that’s horrible. I hope her dad’s okay.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna’ go see her tonight, see how she is,” Heather said, walking towards the door, giving her teacher a slight wave. “See you tomorrow, Miss Brown.”

Angela nodded, offering a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Receiving the last of goodbyes from her students, Angela sat at her desk with a troubled expression, Veronica’s traumatic experience still playing on her mind. Robberies weren’t uncommon in the town, but for the person to be so violent and relentless, it was unnerving for Angela.

Sighing heavily, she looked at the mountains of other unmarked work still piled on her desk. Ordinarily, she would stay behind at school to finish off marking assignments and essays, but her drooping eyes were telling her she needed rest. Grabbing her shoulder bag, she dropped it on the desk and began packing away the paperwork she needed.

With the heavy bag in tow, she locked the classroom door and walked down the empty hallway, heels clicking loudly. Opening the entrance doors, the warmth from the afternoon sun greeted her, a smile appearing on her face. Waving to other teachers leaving, she threw her bag on the passenger seat in her car and sat behind the wheel, starting the engine. Music drifted softly through the car and Angela bobbed her head with the beat, feeling much more relaxed. The drive home was peaceful, the streets just beginning to get busy as it edged rush hour while she drove through the town.

Turning the corner into her neighbourhood however, Angela quickly slammed on the breaks when a police cruiser suddenly came into view, obstructing the road.

“Shit,” she muttered, caressing the back of her sore neck.

“Ma'am, please turn around or move along,” a gruff voice promptly ordered.

A police officer stood in front of the marked car, arms crossed over his chest, blocking view from what looked like a two-car accident, more police cruisers surrounding it.

“What's happened, officer?” Angela questioned, craning her head curiously to get a glimpse.

With a better view, she could see the two cars had crashed into each other in a head-on collision. Bonnets on both vehicles had smashed into each other, the windscreen on one car caved in. The bumper on the other car had been completely torn off, lying in the middle of the road. Angela couldn't see the drivers in either car, since she hoped no one was critically injured, but did notice a bloody handprint smeared across the windscreen on the second car. Her view was immediately cut off when the officer stood in her direct line of sight.

“There's been a serious accident, ma'am, and paramedics are on their way,” he explained, gesturing with his hands for her to move, “so, please move along or turn around.”

Massaging her neck again, she offered a curt nod before reversing, taking the long way home. A few minutes later, the familiar small, white house came into view, Angela pulling into the paved driveway next to her roommate’s car. She hauled her belongings out the car, dragging her heavy book bag up the steps leading to the porch. Before she even opened the door, she could hear the high-pitched laughter from her roommate, and when she entered the house, she scoffed amusingly at the sight she saw.

Cathy, her roommate and close friend, sprawled over the luxurious couch, her head hanging off the edge of the seat with her legs swinging in the air. Dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, she held the house phone to her ear, looking like a teenage girl straight from a rom-com film. Glancing at Angela, she gave her a little wave of her nimble fingers, suddenly giggling into the phone.

“Okay, I've gotta’ go now, Angela's home. Love you too, baby, bye,” she said, ending the call.

“Was that Mark?” Angela asked, dropping her overweight bag on the table, imitating her friend. “ _Love you too, baby!_ ”

“Shut up,” Cathy chuckled, tumbling off the couch and returning the phone to its cradle, “anyway, you're home early.”

“Decided to bring all the work home to mark, too tired to stay there,” she yawned, stretching her arms. “Hey, did you see that accident up the street?”

Flopping back on the couch, Cathy grabbed the television remote and hummed in answer. “Yeah, I saw it on my way home from work before. It looked bad, but the stupid cop told me to take a different route.”

Unpacking the contents from her bag, Angela frowned thoughtfully at her friend. “Wait, you've only just come home? I thought your shift ended at two, since you were in early.”

“Hm, I thought so too,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Kicking her heels off and shedding her jacket, Angela sat next to her. “Why did they keep you in so late?”

Heaving a sigh, her rubbed her temples stressfully. “Today was crazy; out of all the years working in that hospital, I've never seen so many people rushed into the emergency room. People either had this new flu-like disease that deteriorates rapidly or wounds from being attacked.”

“Attacked?” Angela questioned, head turning sharply to the blonde, “like, from an animal?”

“No,” she replied, “apparently, it's related with these riots that have happened recently – I don’t know, I thought it was only happening in the big cities – but trying to treat these people was hard enough. I was running around everywhere all day, and one of the patients bit me-”

“Bit you?” Angela interrupted, horrified.

“Oh, don't worry,” Cathy said, waving her hand in a nonchalant manner, “he wouldn't let the doctor give him a sedative, so another nurse and I had to restrain him. In the process, he bit me on the hand; he only got me a little, but I still had to have it bandaged.”

Bringing said hand up, Angela cringed when she stared at the covered hand. Carefully inspecting it, she saw the bandages wrapped mainly around her palm and thumb, tiny dots of blood seeping through.

“Shit, Cathy, that doesn’t look like a ‘little’ bite.”

Shrugging, she returned her hand to her lap, flicking through the channels on the television. “It's happened in the past to other doctors and nurses, it’s nothing new. Just a bitch that it happened to me.”

Angela couldn't see the funny side of it, instead thinking back to the conversation she had with Heather earlier.

“One of my students was absent today, and when I asked her friend why, she told me some crazy guy tried to break into their house, wouldn’t stop attacking the dad and tried biting, so he had to stab him to stop him,” she said, giving her friend a curious look; the coincidence was concerning for Angela.

“I’ve heard similar stories all day from patients, describing their attackers as ‘insane’ and ‘relentless’,” Cathy explained with a small wave of her injured hand. “I think it’s a new type of drug, some illegal narcotic spreading to bums and teens, making them have bad trips. A similar epidemic happened a few years ago.”

Angela thought for a moment, not particularly reassured by her friend’s words but just let the topic end there. “Well, whatever it is, hope it dies off soon.”

Murmuring in agreement, Cathy suddenly turned to her roommate with a wide grin on her face. “Anyway, enough of the doom and gloom – look what I brought for us.”

Reaching behind the back of the couch, Angela tried to steal a peak at what her friend was doing, Cathy swatting her away. With a slight triumphant noise, she sat up right with a bag in her hand, revealing a very large bottle of red wine. Angela rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the blonde.

“Cathy, no-”

“You mean, ‘yes’,” she smiled, also revealing two glasses and a corkscrew from the bag.

Leaning back into the couch, Angela glared at the bottle of red. “I’m not getting drunk, I have papers to mark.”

“Who said anything about getting drunk?” she asked, pulling the cork from the bottle with a _pop_.

The brunette scoffed. “You know damn well we’ll drink that whole bottle tonight, and we can’t handle alcohol like we used to when we were younger.”

“Hey! Are you calling me old?” the blonde accused her friend, head snapping up. “I’m not old!”

“I’m not calling you old,” Angela said, arms folding loosely over her chest, “but you’re thirty-three and I’m thirty-six. Everyone knows your alcohol intolerance flies out the window once you hit thirty, and we’re no exception; the last time we had ‘one drink’ I called in sick with a hangover while you puked up in work.”

“We’ll just pace ourselves,” Cathy said, ignoring Angela’s last sentence and poured two very full glasses of wine. “We need to relax, we’ve both had a hard day today.”

“I can’t, Cathy, I need to mark these papers,” she said, pushing away the glass that was offered to her.

The bubbly girl stared silently at her stressed friend. Angela could almost see the cogs turning in her head when Cathy glanced at the work bag and paperwork on the table. Setting the glasses of wine down, Cathy was already at the table before Angela could stop her, shoving the papers in the bag and flinging it in the corner. A choked cry of protest left Angela’s mouth.

“You need to relax tonight,” Cathy said, returning to the couch and sitting closer to her friend, “you look exhausted and stressing yourself out even more isn’t going to help now, is it?”

“But-”

“But nothing,” she bluntly interrupted. “You’ve been busting your ass for weeks now to the point that your bringing work home with you. Just for one night relax with me, enjoy a drink or two.”

Debating her words, Angela was pulled between the situations; she enjoyed her job, but she knew she was prioritising it too much, and she didn’t really feel like marking even more work till late in the night. Looking between her bag and the glass of wine, she bit at her bottom lip, the internal struggle strong. God, she hated when Cathy was right.

Throwing her hands up in defeat, Angela groaned. “Fine, one drink.”

An hour later, the brunette donned a similar outfit to the other woman, worn sweatpants with a yellow pyjama top, sipping on a glass wine. The friends laughed girlishly at a cheesy sitcom, the alcohol influencing their whimsical humour. Throughout the evening, they lounged on the couch, drinking and eating leftovers from the fridge. At one point, Angela dozed off for an hour, only waking up to a pained moan.

Cracking an eye open, she found through her blurry vision Cathy sitting on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands.

“See, I told you,” Angela slurred, “was a bad idea to drink.”

“No, it’s not that,” she moaned again, rubbing her head, “I don’t feel good – got a headache and I’m sweaty.”

Angela sat up, though too fast as her head began spinning. Regaining her balance, she clumsily placed a hand to Cathy’s forehead. Though she was damp, her skin felt cool to the touch.

“You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

Scraping her hands down her face, Cathy swayed when she slowly stood up, reaching out for the wall to steady herself. Angela attempted getting up, but the other woman shook her head, motioning for her to stop.

“You stay there, finish the bottle. I’m going to bed, try and kick whatever this is.”

“Think it could be an infection?” Angela asked, glancing at Cathy’s injured hand.

“No, the doctor cleaned it up and gave me a shot. Probably just a bug or something.”

“You sure?” she asked, picking up the last glass of wine.

“Yeah, you sit and relax,” Cathy weakly smiled, taking small steps across the room. “See ya’ in the morning.”

“Night,” Angela called, watching Cathy wobble away until she disappeared into the hallway to her bedroom, before slumping back against the couch.

Turning her attention to the television, her eyes focused on the black and white movie playing. From what Angela gathered, she was watching an old-school horror film, a woman screaming as a human-like creature chased after her through a forest. Angela snorted at the bad acting, sipping her wine down to the last drop. After a few moments, she felt her eyelids drooping, everything around her fading to black when they finally closed.

 

 

Opening her eyes, early morning sun peaked through the windows and across her face. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned over, groaning as her whole body ached terribly. Cautiously opening her eyes again, Angela came faced with the purple cushions of the couch, then realising she had passed out last night, not even making it to her bed.

Feeling a little woozy, she sat up with her back against the armrest, checking the time on the clock opposite her – five AM. Again, she groaned since it was too early for her to be awake, almost an hour before she had to get up for work. Looking around, the television played the stand-by screen, and on the floor laid her empty wine glass. Reaching to pick it up, the sound of tires squealing, followed by a thundering crash, came from outside. The noise startled the brunette wide-awake, bolting up-right.

“What the hell?” she whispered to herself, heart racing slightly.

Hangover seemingly vanished, Angela decided to investigate, pushing herself off the couch. Feet touching the plush carpet, she staggered over to the window, her body feeling the effects of sleeping awkwardly all night. Reaching the large window, she timidly peaked through the gaps of the blinds, only to gasp at carnage on her doorstep.

Thick smoke rose in the clear radiant sky, forming a cloud above a car that had crashed into a streetlamp. The car had to have been speeding, Angela deduced, the front end crunched around the streetlamp, which had now snapped in half due to the force from the car. The windshield was cracked, and she couldn’t see anyone moving in the car.

“Shit,” she said anxiously, moving away from the window.

Grabbing her cell phone from her workbag, which had been untouched since Cathy flung it yesterday, she ran to the door. A strong burning smell hit Angela when she stepped outside, but as she neared the car, she couldn’t see anything on fire. Instantly checking the driver’s side, she found a man unconscious, face down against the steering wheel with blood dripping down his head.

“Sir, can you hear me?” she asked, dialling 911 on her cell phone. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

The line only rang once before it cut off, an automated voice saying, _“sorry, we are experiencing a high number of calls, please hold the line.”_

“High number of calls?” Angela repeated, scowling at her phone.

“Oh my God, what happened?”

Angela looked up to find her next-door neighbours, a middle-aged couple, running over to the car in their night gowns. The man used the dish cloth in his hand to stop the bleeding on the driver’s head, while his wife surveyed the damage in horror.

“I don’t know, I only heard the crash from inside. The driver’s unconscious,” Angela explained, closing her cell phone, “and I can’t reach the emergency services, so I’m gonna’ try the house phone.”

The couple stayed with the driver, Angela running back inside the house to use the landline. However, she skidded to a halt in the hallway upon re-entering. A pair of legs poked out the bathroom door at the end of the hallway, lying flat on the floor. It took a moment for Angela to process what she was seeing before it hit her.

“Cathy?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Running towards the bathroom, Angela dropped to her knees when she reached her friend, who was face down on the floor unresponsive. Grabbing her sweat-stained shirt, she carefully rolled Cathy on her back, getting a better look at her friend. The woman’s usual tanned skin was deathly pale and cold, her eyes sunken and mouth slack.

“Oh, God,” Angela choked, pressing her fingers to Cathy’s neck.

Struggling to find a clear pulse, even after moving her fingers to different positions, she put her ear to Cathy’s colourless lips, letting out a gasp of relief when she could just barely hear faint, struggling breaths. Examining her further, Angela noticed the bandages on her hand were torn and bloody, the wound weeping.

“It’s okay, Cathy, I’m gonna’ get help as soon as I can,” she said, raking her fingers worriedly through her own dark hair. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Running to the house phone, she snatched it from its cradle, hands shaking as she dialled 911. Again, the same automated voice spoke over the line, and she cried in frustration, beginning to dial the number again. A blood-curdling scream suddenly cut through the air, Angela flinching at the noise, which came from outside. Opening the front door, she abruptly stopped when she realised where the scream came from.

The driver of the crashed car was now awake, his teeth imbedded in the neighbour’s face. Trying to pull away from the driver, the neighbour released another pained scream when the crazed man ripped the flesh from his cheek, blood spurting out. His wife, who was crying out for help, tried to help her husband by stopping the bleeding. From the corner of Angela’s view, another man sprinted towards the scene, Angela thinking he was coming to help. Instead, an inhumane growl burst from his chest and he tackled the wife to the ground, gnawing into her throat like an animal.

Clinging to the doorframe, breath quickening with panic, Angela watched the scene unfold in front of her, unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome scene. It was only when a bloodied woman jumped over the yard fence and sprinted towards the porch, her body started functioning again, slamming the door shut with a startled yelp. Locking and bolting it, the woman rammed into it, snarling angrily at Angela. Through the small glass pane in the door, white, empty eyes stared back at her, something she had never seen before.

“What the fuck?” Angela yelled out when she found how to work her voice again, the terrifying scenes replaying in her head while she backed away from the door. “What the fuck!”

Remembering the phone still in her hand, she dialled the emergency services once more, only to hear the automated voice on the other end. Crying out in frustration, she launched the phone at the ground, watching the plastic device smash to pieces. Grabbing her cell phone, Angela thought of who else she could call for help, trying to calm her shocked nerves.

A thud echoed in the hallway, the sudden noise causing Angela to take a sharp breath and clutch her cell phone to her chest. Slowly turning around, she watched Cathy stagger to her feet, her movements jagged and uneasy. Loud and raspy breathing came from her rising chest, a stark difference from only seconds before; it unsettled Angela.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she meekly called out to her friend. “Cathy?”

Cathy spun round and crouched low, a strangled gurgle vibrating in her throat, the lethargic woman on death’s door vanishing in front of Angela. The first thing she noticed was Cathy’s white eyes, the pupil and iris glossed over exactly like the woman’s outside. Thick, clotted blood dripped from her wounded hand, snapping her teeth at Angela before running towards her, emitting a startling shriek. Angela could only stumble backwards before she jumped on her, both crashing to the floor.

“Cathy, stop!” she screamed, restraining her friend.

The blonde responded by trying to bite her face, Angela straightening her arms to push her away, surprised how strong the petite woman had suddenly become. Saliva splattered on her chest when Cathy bared her teeth, but Angela managed to shove her feet on Cathy's stomach during the struggle, gathering the strength to kick her off. The woman’s body connected with the opposite wall, her back smacking it with a painful crack. Shuffling away, Angela backed into the wall for support and stood up, eyes never leaving her friend opposite her.

“Cathy, what’s wrong with you?” she gasped, trying to suck in as much air as possible after having the other’s weight nearly suffocate her.

Seemingly unfazed by the action, the blonde jumped to her feet, a vicious snarl leaving her mouth with her wild eyes trained on Angela. Turning on her heel, Angela pushed herself from the wall to sprint away, bare feet thumping on the floor after her. Running through the living room, she pushed the coffee table over when she ran past it, hoping it would slow Cathy down, but she leapt over the table like it was a simple hurdle.

Making it to the kitchen, Angela slammed the door shut and forced her body against it, her crazed roommate slamming into it seconds later. Fists began pounding into the wooden door with such strength, Angela felt the door shake violently on its hinges. Keeping her weight against it, she stretched out one of her arms, fingertips grabbing one of the kitchen chairs. Sliding it under the handle, she wedged it into place and stepped away when she was certain the door wouldn’t open. On the other side, Cathy continued to bombard the door with punches, even butting her head against it.

Collapsing to the floor, Angela wept loudly and curled up into a ball, bringing her knees to her chin. Her heart thumped heavily against her rib cage, adrenaline rushing through her veins. So much had happened in a space of a few minutes, horrible things that Angela couldn’t comprehend.

With wet eyes, Angela stared up at the door, wondering what the hell had happened to the bubbly friend she shared drinks and laughed with last night.

“Cathy!” she shouted through tears, but that only enraged the monster behind the door. “What happened to you?”

Shouting at the thing behind the door, trying to reach out to her friend, a heavy body slam splintered the door, a large crack running down the middle of the wood. Staring at the split with alarmed eyes, Angela knew if she didn't escape soon, the _thing_ that had taken over her friend would get in there with her and do what the others did to her neighbours.

Checking around her, she slipped on the spare pair of sneakers that she kept by the back door. Wiping her bloodshot eyes with the back of her hand, she finally got up from the floor, quickly thinking of a plan. She needed her car, but she quickly realised she had left the keys in her bag, which was sitting in the corner of the living room.

“Shit.”

Looking around the room in despair, thinking what she could do, her eyes landed on a pair of silver keys with a heart keychain on the counter. Snatching the keys, Angela was thankful that Cathy had left her keys in the kitchen. Hastily tying her dishevelled hair up and out of her face, she fumbled to unlock the back door with her trembling hands, the thing continuing to ram into the kitchen door.

Finally getting the door open, Angela gave one last glance at the woman through the crack, the former shell of Cathy, before stepping outside.

Keeping her back pressed to the rough wall, Angela crept along the side of the house, multiple screams and alarms now filling her neighbourhood. Reaching the front of her house, edging into the driveway, she dared to peak around the corner. The woman was still banging on the front door, while her neighbour was being feasted on by the man in the car and now her husband, her stomach torn open and intestines spilling everywhere. Angela clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from gagging, the vomit rising in her throat. Looking further out in the street, she saw more of her neighbours being attacked by those things that looked like humans; they were everywhere.

“What the fuck is happening?” she whispered to herself.

A deep growl ripped Angela from her thoughts.

Turning her head, her eyes met with another pair, one of those things standing on the other side of the small fence that separated the two houses. It stared at her with milky eyes, skin grey and blood dripping from its mouth. Angela could feel the vomit rising back into her throat when she seen one of its hands had been completely torn off, flesh and muscle dangling from its wrist bone.

Heart pounding in her ears, Angela backed towards the car, only for the monster to jump the fence. Turning on the tips of her toes, she sprinted out of her crouched place to the car. Behind her, she could hear the animal-like grunting of the thing as it to chased her. A scream unwillingly left Angela's throat, hearing it catching up to her, before she jammed the keys into the lock of Cathy’s car.

Unknowingly, her scream had attracted the attention off the woman banging on the front door, who then began running towards Angela as well. Getting the car door open, she scrambled inside and slammed it shut, one of the things throwing itself against the door a few seconds later. His bloodied stump smacked against the window, leaving streaks of red.

Engine starting, the other one started hitting the car, but Angela just stomped her foot on the gas, not caring when she hit one of the monsters. Reversing out the driveway, she didn’t spare another glance at the things before speeding off down the street. Tears blurred her vision as she swerved through the street, trying not to hit anyone or anything else. Her sobs started filling the car over the static radio, driving into another street.

Overwhelmed with what she had just experienced, Angela didn't know what to do; in the space of five minutes, her best friend attacked her in a crazed frenzy, forcing her to flee her home, and she witnessed those monsters destroying her neighbourhood, eating everyone in their path. She had no idea what to do or where to go – she just drove.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she pressed all the buttons on the radio, seeing if any stations were working. After a few tries, she found one, a voice crackling faintly. Angela left it on, turning up the volume.

_“Please, stay in your homes and… up your doors and windows… If you come into contact... the infected… aim… the head…”_

After the short message, the station went static again, but Angela was left even more confused and scared. “Infected? Aim for the head?”

Thinking over the words, the situation sounded awfully familiar and a shiver crept up her spine. The horror movie she saw last night suddenly came to mind, how the human-like creature chased after the woman – zombie movies. However, she instinctively jerked her head, dismissing the idea. It was crazy because there was no such thing as zombies, or so she thought.

Pushing those assumptions away, Angela drove deeper into the town, her stomach tightening while looking at the carnage around her; she couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. People ran through the streets, many of those monsters chasing after them. A few cars carelessly sped past her and overtook her, desperate to escape the danger around them. Glancing in her rear-view mirror, Angela saw another car speeding up behind her, until a large van slammed into it and crushed it off the road.

With her eyes off the road ahead and her attention focused behind her, Angela didn't notice the car in front had halted to a stop. Inside the car, the driver was fighting off his infected girlfriend, who clawed at his face with her fingers. Digging her teeth into her lover’s cheek, the driver screamed and kicked wildly at the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare loudly. Catching Angela’s attention, she looked forward again and gasped, narrowly avoiding the car and swerving out the way at the last second.

Desperately trying to steer back onto the road, Angela screamed when she smashed through a plastic stop barrier and pylon cones, speeding down a closed side street. The car took its own course, driving over speed bumps and rocky paths. Finally, the road came to an end at a junction, but Angela still couldn’t take control of the car, instead crashing into a concrete barricade. On impact, her whole body flew forward into the airbag that blew up in her face, cushioning her from the hard dashboard. The engine cut off, leaving Angela in silence and smoke rising from her car. For a few moments, her body laid lifeless, slumped over the steering wheel, unresponsive to the world around her.

Suddenly, her head emerged from the deflated airbag, sharply inhaling for breath. Eyes fluttering open, her head and chest throbbed where she had taken the brunt of the impact. A trickle of warm blood ran down her forehead and over the bridge of her nose. Tasting the coppery substance in her mouth, Angela groaned and sat up against the seat, her muscles screaming painfully at her. Looking down at herself, shards of glass littered her body.

“Fuck,” she said, face cringing when a sharp pain shot up her side.

Lifting her shirt up, it revealed a small chunk of glass embedded in her waist. Taking a closer look, clenching her jaw, Angela realised it wasn't in too deep to do damage, but she knew she couldn’t take it out yet. Gathering her bearings, she took a deep breath before opening the door. Glass crunched under her sneakers when she stepped out into the open, her body leaning against the ruined car for support. As well as her hurting head and the glass stuck in her side, her neck and shoulders ached terribly.

Turning her attention to the car, she could see the full extent of the damage. The front of the car was completely ruined, the bonnet crushed against the concrete barricade. One of the front tires had fallen off and rolled away, while all the windows had smashed; the car was useless.

“Guess I'll have to go on foot,” she whispered to herself, but she knew she couldn't travel far, especially in her condition.

Stumbling to the concrete barricade, she rested against the chain-link fencing, sighing and closing her eyes. When opening them again, her eyes fell on a large building. Squinting against the sun, she realised she was looking at the Crossroads Mall, which still looked intact, the parking lot deserted of both cars and those things. Angela stared at the mall in amazement, thinking it would be a perfect haven. She thought about what the mall could supply; endless amount of food and water, medical supplies, lockable doors and heavy shutters, the overnight security guards hopefully there still.

Knowing there was nowhere else to go, and the fact she didn't have much choice, Angela decided she would try the mall for help. Before she could take a step though, a scream in the distance interrupted her thoughts. Behind her, two of those things ran down the side road she had just came from, following her when she swerved off and crashed through the stop barrier. Cursing aloud, Angela, seeing no other way in near-by, climbed on top of the crushed bonnet of her car and began scaling the chain-link fence.

Gritting her teeth at the pain, the screams behind her motivated her to climb the fencing as quick as she could. Swinging her legs over and dropping herself, she landed safely on the other side just as the things slammed into the fence, teeth gnashing at the metal. Giving them one last glance, she hastily turned around and began limping through the parking lot, trying to ignore the pain pulsing through her body.

The car park was deathly silent, no car, person, or thing in sight, giving Angela the chills, and she was glad when she finally reached the main entrance doors. Her relief was short-lived though, as when she tried to open the doors, they were all locked tightly.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling and pushing on the doors; Angela needed to get into this mall, so she wasn't giving up just yet.

Creeping around the side of the building, she checked the other doors, hoping some were open but to no avail. Every single door was locked tightly. Even the windows were too high for Angela to reach, until she saw one around the back of the mall. Upon closer inspection, she realised the window was just low enough for her reach, stumbling towards it, hands gliding across the rough brick wall for support.

Looking through the frosted glass, making sure it was clear, Angela recognised it was a bathroom. Gripping the sliding panel, she tested to see if it was open. Slowly but surely, the window slid out-of-place, a triumphant noise escaping her lips. It was stiff, though Angela didn’t care, the window progressively sliding open more.

The air around her suddenly shifted, the hairs standing on the back of her neck when she felt a presence near her. Looking behind, a figure of a man could be seen in the distance, down the far end of the parking lot. From the side, he seemed completely fine, and Angela debated on whether to attract his attention. It was when he turned face-on that her hopefulness dropped to the pit of her stomach. Half of his arm had gone, torn off at the elbow, leaving just a stump attached to his body. His screech echoed throughout the empty lot when his white eyes landed on her.

“Oh, fuck,” she said, turning back to the window, pulling at it with a newfound strength. The snarls began getting louder, the window halfway open when it jammed, the rust causing it to stick. She panicked, hitting the glass with her palm. "No! Don't do this to me!"

Hearing him running closer, Angela grabbed the frame with both hands and began to wiggle and pull it, hoping that would loosen it. With one last hard pull in a desperate attempt, the window slid open all the way. Pulling herself up, she shimmied through the window and into the bathroom, her body landing on the cold, hard floor. She cried out, grasping at her shoulder, yet another injury. Quickly crawling from the floor, she slid the window shut, the thing slamming his face into it, his rotten teeth scraping against the glass. Securing it, Angela stared at him, looking into his milky eyes for a moment before backing away.

“I did it…” she whispered to herself, leaning against the cool wall, which soothed the sore muscles in her back.

Regaining her breath, her heartbeat slowly returning to normal, she stared at the monster behind the window. Angela studied it: its facial expression, movement, injuries, and even the noises it made. Everything about it seemed human, but at the same time, it didn't. Its blank eyes held no emotion, and its face just held a raging hunger while it stared at Angela. Animal-like grunts came from its mouth, no real words forming.

Her previous thoughts echoed in her head – could they really be zombies? Angela was a fan of horror movies, so from all the zombie movies she had watched, all the symptoms matched the ones present in those things. The only reason she didn't know a hundred percent if they were zombies was whether they were dead or not, and she sure as hell wasn't going to test that theory any time soon.

The infected man outside gave one last frustrated scream before disappearing from the window. Stretching her stiff limbs, cracking the joints of her bones, Angela decided to venture out into the mall, hopefully finding other people like her. Peeking through the partially open door, she surveyed the area she could see, which seemed to be the main foyer of the mall. It was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary, surprising since an outbreak had happened. Seeing as the area was clear, she slinked out the bathroom quietly, shutting the door securely.

Multiple guns cocking behind her made Angela's body freeze.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

For a long and strained moment, Angela remained still, her throat full and tight. She gradually raised her hands in the air, signalling to whoever held her at gunpoint that she was friendly and not one of those things.

“Turn around,” a male voice commanded.

With her hands still visible, Angela slowly did as she was told to come faced with three male figures, all of them wearing the same dark security uniform. Two pointed their guns at her, the other keeping his gun by his side, seeming the youngest of the three. Looking no older than eighteen, the young security guard gazed warily at Angela, his hand trembling slightly with his gun down. His baby face stood out to her, looking like he belonged in one of her high school classes rather than mall security.

The second guard seemed a couple years older, possibly early twenties. With an unnerving grin on his sweaty face, carelessly brandishing his gun with one hand, he made Angela feel uneasy. With his gun firmly pointing at her with both hands, the last security guard – more within Angela's age-range – seemed to possess a sense of authority about him, confidence radiating from him. His stare was hard and intense, so much so that it intimidated Angela, who suddenly felt wary.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned.

Angela hesitated, releasing an uneven breath. “What?"

“I said, what are you doing here?” he repeated more firmly.

Mouth parted, she didn’t know where to start with her ordeal, stammering out the first thing that came to mind a few seconds later. “I crashed my car outside the mall, and those things were after me, so I came in here for help.”

The guard pursed his lips before promptly replying, “this is our mall.”

Eyebrows knitting together with confusion, Angela paused for a moment, not knowing what he meant by his statement. “Your mall?”

“ _Our_ mall,” the second guard repeated, grin widening.

“So, what, can't I stay here?” she asked with a nervous chuckle, her stomach coiling when the guards remained silent. “Are you kidding me? You can't kick me back out!”

When anger replaced her nervousness, the older security guard gripped his gun tighter, fingers flexing around the grip. “Hey, lady, I'm the one holding the gun here, so you just calm the fuck down.”

“You can't force me back out there, I nearly died because of those infected things!”

“There are plenty of other places to go,” he said, showing no signs of backing down.

Panic began rising through Angela’s core, her palms clammy and chest straining. “I’m injured – if I go back out there with no car or weapon, I’ll die. This is probably the safest place in the town!”

Before he could push his argument, the youngest guard stepped forward between her and the man, speaking for the first time. “CJ, c'mon, she's hurt and on her own, we can't just kick her out.”

Trying to take a calming breath, a sharp pain shot up her side, Angela wincing.

“Please,” she began pleading, placing a hand over her wound, “please, let me stay. I won't cause any trouble; I just need to patch myself up.”

CJ, as the young guard called him, stared at her while she begged, flickering his eyes to the bathroom door behind her.

“Is there anyone else with you?” he asked and when she shook her head, his piercing gaze then landed on her injured side, the blood starting to seep through her yellow shirt. “What happened to you? Wasn’t one of those things, was it?”

“No. When I crashed my car, a piece of glass got stuck in my side,” she explained, though he still stared at her, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “None of those things touched me, okay,” she stated firmly.

The man huffed, having no choice but to accept her answer. “What's your name?”

“Angela Brown.”

A tense silence followed her answer, the three guards still staring at her. At long last, CJ lowered his gun and tucked it away in his holster, scratching his dark, horseshoe moustache. The youngest guard visibly sighed with relief, but the second guard still held his gun in place and stared at CJ in confusion.

“CJ, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Put your gun away, dipshit,” he said, “she's staying.”

Hearing those words, Angela’s shoulders relaxed, letting her hand drop back down, her nerves settling. “Thank you.”

CJ stepped forward, glaring down at her, his height intimidating. “Yeah, well, just don't bullshit me, lady. If you make one wrong move, I'll kick you back out there with those things, you hear me?”

Taken aback by his threatening composure, she just nodded quietly, not daring to say anything. Happy with the response, CJ motioned for her to follow him.

“Come on,” he muttered, walking away with the second guard following closely behind him.

Still shocked with how she had been spoken to, Angela followed in silence, the youngest guard next to her. They took the elevator to the upper floor, leading her to an electronics store, walking to the very back of the store. Three different couches and a small sofa chair all pointed towards the wall, which held a dozen large screen televisions. CJ sat in the chair, the second guard flopping on a couch, feet resting on the coffee table in the middle. Angela stood awkwardly, the youngest guard appearing beside her.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Angela puffed painfully, her hand still on her wound. “No, not really, um…”

“Terry, my name's Terry, and that's Bart,” he pointed to the second guard, “and that's CJ,” pointing to last guard, which Angela already knew.

“Well, Terry, do you have a med kit or something I can use to patch myself up?” she asked, gesturing to her injury.

Terry stared at her, uncertainty crossing his face before he turned toward the older man. “CJ?”

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, obviously listening to the conversation as he ripped his keys from his belt, “take her to the first aid room. Keep your eyes on her.”

Throwing his keys at Terry, Angela glared at the man, mumbling angrily under her breath while Terry led her out the store. Following the young guard, he led her to the first aid room down the ‘Employees Only’ section, not a word spoken between them. Angela could sense Terry was awkward and shy, which was fine with her; at least he was nice, unlike the other two. Coming up to a door with a red cross on it, he unlocked and opened it for her.

“There’s a first aid box in the drawer on the left,” he mentioned when she stepped in the room, “and there’s some extra clothes in the basket, if you want them.”

Angela smiled for the first time that morning, appreciating his kindness. “Thank you.”

Terry replied with a faint smile of his own, closing the door as he stepped out. “I’ll wait out here.”

Once the door shut, Angela looked around the room, the grey walls and white cupboards dull and dreary. Hand on waist, she limped over to the drawer Terry pointed out, finding the green medical box inside. Taking it over to the table in the middle of the room, she slouched in the chair, feeling parts of her body ache and throb from the multiple injuries she had. Opening the box, she surveyed the contents, taking out tweezers, antiseptic wipes, alcohol, steri-strips, and bandages. Thankfully, she had basic first aid training due to Cathy.

Cathy.

The thought of her friend made her chest tight, the image of her sickly face and colourless eyes coming to mind. Pushing the feeling away, Angela focused back on the task at hand. Carefully, she pulled her blood-covered shirt over her head, discarding it on the floor, bare torso shivering when the cool air hit her skin. Grabbing the tweezers, she slowly began teasing the broken shard out, bracing herself against the chair. She hissed loudly, pulling the piece all the way out, bleeding again. Examining it, she concluded the wound was only minor, thankfully. Opening the bottle of alcohol, the smell burning the hairs in her nostrils, she gritted her teeth and splashed the liquid on the wound. Using the wipes, she cleaned the blood away, then using the steri-strips to create butterfly stitches, the only stitches she knew how to do.

After applying a waterproof bandage, she cleared the table, returning the medical box to the drawer and disposing of the bloody piece of glass. She stood in front of the mirror, running cold water in the sink, assessing the other damage to her body. The small cut on her forehead had scabbed over, dry blood streaked over her face, settling in the fine lines under her eyes. A bruise had already begun forming on her neck and chest from the car crash, other small cuts and bruises littering her back and shoulders. She had taken two aspirins she found in the medical box, hoping it would help ease the aches and pains.

With a wet cloth, she cleaned the blood from her face, washing the sweat and grime from her body as best she could, before grabbing a t-shirt from the basket Terry had mentioned. Trying to straighten the oversized shirt, Angela left the room to find the young guard fiddling with the keys, back against the wall.

“Hey, you okay now?” he asked, standing up straight.

Angela produced a small, dry laugh. “If by okay, you mean ‘I now feel like I’ve been hit by a car instead of a bus’, then sure.”

Terry exhaled through his nose for a second, locking the door again. “We’d better get back to the store; CJ will be waiting for us.”

Before he could walk away though, she lightly grasped his arm, stopping him. “I just wanted to say thank you, for before,” she said, squeezing his arm softly, “if you hadn't stepped in, I don't think I'd be here now.”

A light blush tinted his boyish face, bowing his head to avoid eye contact. “It was the right thing to do.”

Angela found the boy’s bashfulness amusing, reminding her of her students. Thinking of their youthful faces, all laughing and talking to their friends in her classroom, she wondered if they were safe with their families, hopefully avoiding the nightmares of the outside. Dropping her hand, she let him lead the way back to the electronics store, mood sullen.

Re-entering the television area, Angela noticed that CJ and Bart hadn’t moved an inch, both lounging in the identical positions they were in before. Their eyes stared ahead at the multiple televisions, focusing on the reports of the ongoing riots, which they know knew were to do with this outbreak. Terry threw the keys back to CJ, jingling as they landed on his lap. He glanced up, his eyes landing on Angela before switching to Terry.

“You lock up everywhere?” he asked, clipping the keys back on his belt.

Terry nodded his head, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner of the room. Standing at the edge of the room, Angela twiddled her thumbs, not knowing what to do with herself. From the other side of the room, CJ watched her play with the hem of her t-shirt.

“Well, sit down for fuck sake,” he said, gesturing to the couches, “you're making the place untidy.”

Angela huffed, setting herself down on one the furthest couches, away from CJ and Bart. Glowering at the two, she didn't realise someone sitting next to her until a bottle of water was held in front of her face. Turning to see Terry smiling meekly at her, she accepted the bottle.

“Thanks,” she whispered, taking large gulps. She didn't realise how thirsty she was until she removed the now empty bottle from her lips, having drank the entire drink in one go.

“So, what did you mean back there, about those things?” Terry asked, Angela cocking her head confusingly. “You called them 'infected', what are they infected with?”

“Yeah,” another voice suddenly interjected, “what’s that all about?”

Angela looked over to see the other two guards were both listening in on their conversation, Bart sitting on the edge of the couch.

“I’m not sure, that's just what the radio said,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, “it said that if you come into contact with the infected, shoot or hit them in the head. I suppose that's the only way to...”

“Kill them?” Terry asked, finishing off her sentence.

“Yeah,” she whispered, looking down into her lap.

After a moment silence, Bart's face lit up, eyes wide and mouth open in a comical 'O' shape. “Hey, that sounds kinda' like zombies.”

“Oh, for God's sake,” CJ said, glancing annoyingly at him.

Angela ignored him, instead directing her attention to Bart. “That's what I was thinking as well.”

CJ looked at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“How else would you explain what’s happening out there?” she asked.

“Yeah, man, there's no other way to explain this,” Bart added.

“Zombies are not real,” the older guard stated, “I mean, for Christ's sake, they're Hollywood movie bullshit!”

“It sounds crazy, but if you think about it, it makes sense – these things are not human anymore. They may look it, but they're not; I've been up close and personal with them and they are far from it. Some had their faces and arms ripped off, yet they can sprint after you like an Olympic runner. The radio said you have to aim for the head, just like those zombie movies. They're fucking eating people alive like wild animals! How the hell do you explain that?” Angela didn’t realise her voice had progressively gotten louder and shakier until she stopped, taking a deep breath. “It’s hard to believe, but everything that’s happening out there doesn’t seem real.”

“So, if they are zombies, does that mean they're all... dead?” Terry asked, wondering with uncertainty.

Before she could answer, CJ snorted, crossing his arms. “Course they're fucking not. A dead person couldn't just run around chomping on people's asses.”

With a glare on her face, Angela also crossed her arms and leant back into the couch. “Well, CJ, why don't you go outside and find out for us?”

“Or how 'bout I just kick you back out. See for yourself.”

Angela's frown deepened, a snide grin plastered on CJ’s face. In silence, she turned her sight away from him, her attention focusing on the multiple televisions on the wall. Shifting in her seat, she suddenly felt something hard pressed against her thigh. Digging her hand in the pocket of her sweatpants, her fingers wrapped around the object, realising it was her cell phone. Angela gasped, forgetting she even had the phone and pulled it out. Looking at the home screen, she saw three missed call notifications from her brother, Jonathan.

“Shit,” she said, pressing the call back button.

“What’s wrong?” Terry asked.

“My cell, I forgot I had it in my pocket, and I’ve got missed calls from my brother,” she said, putting the cell to her ear, “he lives in Washington, so hopefully he’s safe, far away from this mess.”

“You might wanna’ check the-”

“Hello?” Angela said, cutting off CJ when someone answered the call.

 _“Angela?”_ Jon said, voice hushed.

“Jonathan!” she cried, her hand gripping at the neck of her shirt. “Oh, thank God!”

 _“Angela! Are you alright? Are you safe?”_ he asked frantically.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m in a mall with the security guards; we’re pretty safe here,” she explained, beginning to pace. “God, Jon, it’s obvious you’ve heard what’s happening over here; it’s out of control!”

_“Angela-”_

“I don’t know if they’ve shown anything on the news in Washington, but people are being attacked by these things here!”

_“Angela-”_

“I don’t know how far this outbreak has spread, but-”

 _“Angela!”_ Jonathan shouted, stopping her panicked rambling. _“It’s not just happening in Wisconsin.”_

Her body stilled, her relieved exterior deflating, processing what her brother had stated. “What?”

 _“It’s happening here too,”_ he said, voice lowering again, _“Washington, California, Texas, New York… it’s happening all over the country.”_

Turning to face the televisions, Angela paid attention to all the different news channels covering the outbreak for the first time, realising it wasn’t just Wisconsin news stations on the screens; it was news stations from all over the country. A map of America appeared on one screen, hundreds of red dots all over it, each dot representing the outbreaks.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, eyes flickering to the carnage on the screens, “it’s everywhere.”

“I tried tellin’ ya’,” CJ said in the background.

 _“Angela?”_ her brother said on the other end of the line.

She returned the phone back to her ear, never taking her eyes away from the televisions. “Where are you? Are you safe?”

 _“I’m with Miranda, we’ve taken shelter in the local library. Those monsters broke into our house, nearly got us both. We escaped and ran into town and ended up here. They’ve set up a medical bay in here and we’re waiting on the army coming to help,”_ Jonathan explained.

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Angela asked.

He didn’t answer straight away, a deep sigh following. _“One of them bit me, took a chunk out of my arm.”_

Hearing those words, Angela’s heart sunk deep in her chest, feeling like her sternum was going to collapse. Tears pricked her eyes; she didn’t want to believe.

_“I’ve seen what happens, Angela, when you turn into one of those-”_

“I know,” she said bluntly, voice tight and jaw clenching together, “it happened to Cathy.”

 _“She’d been bitten, hadn’t she?”_ When Angela didn’t answer, he continued, _“it’s how it spreads, Angela. Anyone who’s been bitten, they turn into those monsters hours later. One of the doctors here said all of his patients who turned into one of those things had some sort of bite or injury from them.”_

Words failed to come to Angela, her mind blank after what her brother had just told her. Heart pounding, tears rolled down her cheeks as she held back from completely breaking down all together.

“You don’t know for sure that the bites cause this,” she finally whispered, barely believing her own lie.

 _“That’s what Miranda keeps saying,”_ he murmured, a loud beeping noise suddenly coming over the line. _“Shit, my phone’s dying!”_

“No!” she snapped, voice cracking, “no! You can’t hang up, you can’t!”

_“I have to-”_

“No! You don't have to!”

 _"Listen, Angela, just promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise me you’ll run if you see those things and don’t stop running.”_ Another beep came over the line. _“I love you, sis.”_

Angela suppressed a sob, putting her hand over her eyes. “I-I love you too, Jon.”

_“Stay safe-”_

The line went dead, cutting Jonathan off before he could finish his sentence. The cell phone slipped through her fingers, falling to the floor with a soft thud. Breathing becoming erratic, Angela felt the room closing in around her, her vision becoming blurred with tears. She stumbled away from the couches towards the store’s exit.

“Where the fuck are you going?” CJ suddenly asked, hastily following her.

“The bathroom!” Angela spun around, yelling directly in his face, tears now cascading down her face, “so I can cry in peace! Or do you wanna’ watch?”

Realising how close she had gotten in his face, she backed away, roughly rubbing her wet eyes. The guard stared at her with a hard expression, Angela hiccupping, her sobs threatening to spill over. Scratching his moustache, CJ brushed past her, walking to the doors of the store, looking back at her. Sniffling, she followed him, leading her across the mall, taking her to the nearest bathroom.

He leaned next to the women’s door, one foot against the wall with his arms crossed and he nodded towards the door, signalling he was going to guard the door. Giving him once last glance, Angela rushed into the bathroom, locking herself in nearest stall.

Slamming the toilet seat down, she lowered herself on to it, her cries morphing into wailing as she buried her head in her hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Angela sat on the toilet seat, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. She didn’t know how long she had been in the stall – she stopped crying around ten minutes ago but felt like she had been sobbing for hours, her brother on her mind. Eyes red raw, throat hoarse, head aching, she just wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole.

The bathroom door creaked open, CJ clearing his throat. “Gone quiet in here.”

“Is that a crime?” Angela snarked, voice raspy.

“It is when I’m fucking standing here for thirty minutes,” he replied harshly, letting the door slam.

“Prick,” she muttered, letting her feet hit the gritty floor.

Deciding she couldn’t stay in there all day, she emerged from the dingy stall, walking over to the sinks. Running the cold water, Angela stared at her reflection in the mirror with bloodshot eyes; her face was blotchy, the skin around her eyes puffy, tears dried up on her cheeks. Casting her eyes down, she splashed water on herself, cooling her flushed face.

After spending a few minutes refreshing herself, she finally stepped out the bathroom, interrupting CJ pacing back and forth. He looked at her, examining her face with judging eyes. Turning away, she ignored him until he tutted, walking back to the electronics store. When they both entered the television area, Angela returned to her place on the couch next to Terry, who displayed concern for the woman.

“Jeez, you look like shit,” Bart said from the other couch.

“Fuck you,” she snapped, not in the mood to put up with his comments.

He raised his hands in defence. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t say.”

“Ooh, feisty.”

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” CJ interjected. “Like a bunch of goddamn kids.”

Bart huffed, slouching back in his chair, face resembling the one of a scolded child. Angela pursed her lips, curling up at the end of the couch. Terry flickered a worried gaze to her, before shifting his attention back to the news. Everyone sat in silence for the best part of ten minutes, the only noise coming from the wall of televisions. Tapping her fingers on the leather of the couch, Angela sat in a daze of thoughts about her brother, only Bart’s voice bringing her back to reality.

“Wonder what happened to Ben.”

“How the hell should we know?” CJ asked, though seeming uninterested, never taking his attention away from the news.

“Who's Ben?” she whispered, leaning over to Terry.

“He's a security guard, like us; he was working the graveyard shift with us when this whole thing happened. When the police didn’t show up, he decided he would go find help himself,” the young guard explained, “he's been gone for over two hours now.”

“The fucker's probably in the middle of town getting his ass chomped on,” CJ said, interrupting Angela and Terry.

“But he couldn't have gone outside, none of the doors have been unlocked,” Terry quickly pointed out.

“I checked all the doors and none of them were open,” she added.

“Well, he's not in here, is he?” CJ asked, finally looking at the two. “Anyway, the stupid fucker wanted to go look for help, what ever happened to him is his own fault.”

Angela gaped at the older guard, horrified that he could even think that way, disregarding someone like that, especially if this person was his work colleague.

“Maybe he did find help,” Terry suggested.

CJ snorted. “Well, if he has, he obviously isn't coming to help us.”

“I can see why,” Angela muttered to herself.

Hearing the comment, CJ sneered at her, “what did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Glaring at her for a few seconds, he shook his head, grumbling under his breath as he focused on the television screens. Angela rolled her eyes, but her attention was quickly caught by Bart, who was looking at her with a grin.

“What?” she questioned him.

With the stupid grin still on his face, his head lolled to the side. “You got a boyfriend?”

Angela wasn’t quite sure she heard him right, or just hoping she had misunderstood him. “Excuse me?”

“What?” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “it’s a simple question.”

Mouth parted, she leant forward, hands on knees as she squinted her eyes. “We are currently in the middle of an outbreak. People are dying, being eaten alive by those monsters. We’re held up in here, one of the only safe places in the town, not knowing if help is coming. And your concern is whether I’m _dating_?”

Bart was silent for a moment, the inane smile returning to his face. “Well, are you?”

A disgusted noise escaped Angela’s mouth, pushing herself back into the couch. It was becoming obvious Bart exuded immaturity with a hint of creepiness, something that was beginning to make her uncomfortable.

“I mean, if we’re going to be stuck in here together, might as well get to know each other a lil’ better,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Beside her, Terry squirmed in his seat, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Angela.

“Believe me, right now, you’re the last person I’d even think about being interested in,” Angela stated, “I’d rather take my chances back outside.”

The smirk vanished from Bart’s face, his face contorting into a snarl. “Why don’t you go back out there then, huh?”

“I’ll kick the both of you outside if you don’t shut the fuck up,” CJ yelled, slamming his fist on the arm of the chair, “you're both getting on my last goddamn nerve!”

Angela closed her mouth, Bart making himself smaller in his seat, not liking to be on the receiving end of CJ’s wrath. Terry attempted comforting Angela, but before he could, CJ threw his keys at him.

“Terry, go upstairs. Check the security cameras, nobody’s checked them since we caught her sniffing around,” he ordered, gesturing towards Angela.

“Wait a minute, you were watching me while I was running around out there!” she said, sitting up right. “Why didn’t you help me?”

“Didn’t think you would make it,” CJ simply replied.

At a loss for words, she felt the anger rising deep inside her. Fed up with Bart and CJ’s attitude and treatment towards her, she stood up along with Terry.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She didn’t give CJ a glance when she replied, “with Terry to check the security cameras.”

CJ shot out of his chair, striding over to her. “Like hell you are, you’re staying right here.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” she said, trying not to flinch when he got up in her face.

“Yes, the fuck I am,” he said sternly, now an inch away from Angela’s face. “Did you forget who let your ass stay in here? I said, if you didn’t cause any trouble, I wouldn’t kick you back out there with those things, but you’re on thin fucking ice right about now! So, sit down before I make you.”

When she didn’t move, mouth tight as she glared up at CJ, he then lowered his voice to a gruff growl. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Still scowling at him, she stiffly sat down, back straight as she crossed her arms. CJ stood over her, his stance threatening and assertive, sending a message to the woman that his words were serious. He glanced at Terry, who had stood there watching the whole ordeal.

“You deaf, Terry? Go and check those cameras.”

Glancing at Angela, the young man hesitated before meekly turning away, leaving the store. Observing him leave, CJ gave Angela one last harsh stare before returning to his chair. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room, even Bart taking the social cue to keep his mouth shut, the two guards now ignoring Angela. Curling up on the couch, positioning her body away from the two, she let her head rest against the armrest.

After a minute of allowing her body to gradually relax, a soft yawn escaped her mouth, her eyes beginning to feel heavy. After the traumatising morning Angela had, watching her best friend turn into a monster, witnessing her neighbours being eaten alive, running for her life, crying over her brother, she began feeling the effects of her exhausted body. Nestling her head, she let her eyes close and guard down, intending to at least have a nap. She didn’t know how long she was out for, it could have been ten minutes, it could have been an hour, but the next time she opened her eyes, Terry ran into the store, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“People!” he panted, skidded to a stop, bending over out of breath.

CJ shook his head. “Terry, what the fuck are you-”

“There are people,” he blurted out, cutting him off, “in the mall!”

That statement promptly woke Angela, sitting up as the other two sprang out of their seats, panic written across their faces.

“What! Where?”

“On the lower floor,” Terry said, “looks like they got through the employees’ door round the back and into Metropolis, broke through the store window.”

“How? They were all locked tight when I checked,” Angela said.

Terry shook his head, finally standing straight. “I dunno’, but they’ve run into some trouble downstairs, one of those things was down there.”

“What!” Angela said, looking accusingly at CJ. “Those things are in here?”

“They must have let it in, we checked this place. This is why I didn’t want to let anybody in,” CJ grunted, rubbing his temples harshly, before pulling his gun out. “Get ready, we’re gonna’ sort this shit out.”

Already locked and loaded, Bart held his gun ready, Terry reluctantly pulling his out. Meanwhile, CJ marched over to Angela, holding his hand out to her. She frowned at the gesture.

“You're coming with us,” he stated, “I want to keep my eye on you, so come on, before I haul your ass off that couch.”

Looking back at his hand, Angela raised her arm, letting him grab her wrist and pull her up, keeping her close to his side as they exited the store.

“The guns are for those things, aren’t they?” she questioned, following the three guards. “If they're survivors looking for safety, they won't do any harm.”

“Yeah, well, I'm not taking that risk,” he said, pulling Angela along while they marched through the mall.

Detecting no sign of life, Bart let out a frustrated grunt. “Where the hell are they?”

A subtle 'ding' suddenly echoed through the area, causing the group to stop. CJ snapped his head towards the elevators, seeing the dial raising upwards, and smacked his lips together. “They're on their way up now.”

Beginning to march towards the elevators, Angela silently grumbled when he towed her along his side, his grip tightening on her wrist. “Could you let go or at least loosen your grip, please?”

Stopping in front of the elevator doors, CJ glanced down at her, realising he still had a firm grip of her wrist. Quickly letting go of her, he stood her in between himself and Terry, so he could keep a very close eye on her. Lowering his gun for a second, he pointed his finger at her.

“You stay put, got that?”

Angela nodded slowly, her anxious eyes flickering to the elevator doors. The dial above the door ticked as the elevator rose to their floor. A tight knot formed in the pit of her stomach, knowing something bad was going to happen, CJ and Bart’s aggressive stances a tell-tale sign. She and Terry glanced at each other, their worried gazes meeting. They stood there for what seemed like minutes, the seconds dragging by, waiting for them heavy metal doors to open.

Suddenly, a shrill ‘ding’ cut through the silence, Angela flinching at the sound. With a stuttering groan, the doors slid open, revealing five survivors inside – scared and bloodied, but human, Angela quickly noted. Guns went up in the air, a tense silence following, before CJ spoke.

“Find someplace else.”

Angela should have expected that, given the way she was treated when they found her in the mall, but her eyes still widened at his bluntness, barely giving the group a chance. One of the survivors spoke, a tall man, face and white shirt drenched in blood.

“Look, we just need a place-”

A click of a gun interrupted him, CJ directly pointing his gun directly at him. “Maybe you didn't hear me,” he said, voice low and threatening.

“There is no place else,” the man stated.

“Hm, that's tough shit, 'cause this is our place and you can't stay here,” CJ said, brandishing his gun across them all.

“Yeah, and you already trashed Metropolis,” Bart added, keeping his gun steady

Angela frowned at the two of them, wondering if they really would make this group leave or if it was scare tactics. Though before she could even argue, another man from the group, sweat and blood shining on his dark skin as he also held a gun, argued back.

“Look, dumbass, my wife is pregnant, we can't run anymore.”

The doors began closing, the man stopping them with his hand as he still pointed his gun. Angela looked at the woman next to him, noticing that indeed she was pregnant – heavily pregnant. Her hand wrapped around her servilely swollen stomach, eyes connecting with Angela's. The woman, who seemed exhausted, silently pleaded with her while the conversation carried on.

A petite blonde woman, pale skin stained crimson, stepped forward with a shotgun in hand, pointing to the fifth and last member of the surviving group, a broad police officer sporting a nasty slice on his arm. “His arm...”

“Those things are down there!” the original man in the white shirt exclaimed.

“You ‘checked this place’, huh?” Angela muttered at CJ, earning a pointed glare from him before he turned back to the group.

“Well, these are all your problems, not mine.”

“If I put my foot up your ass, would that be your problem?” the officer asked, speaking for the first time.

“Hey, asshole, I'm the one pointin' the gun at you.”

Angela's patience had hit a boiling point, and she couldn't believe what CJ was saying. “Are you being serious right now?”

Directing his threatening gaze towards her, CJ tilted his head. “Who said you could speak?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she snapped, causing everyone in both groups to look at her, “who gave you the right to deny them a safe place from the mess out there? Don’t know if you realised, but this is a public mall.”

CJ, with his gun still pointed at the survivors, took a step forward to stand in front of Angela. “Y'know, I could just throw you back out there with them if you don't shut up.”

Glaring up at him, Angela too took a step forward, coming dangerously close to CJ. “This is the third time you’ve threatened me with that; it’s kinda’ getting old.”

The two stood there in silence, mere inches from each other as they glared at each other. CJ's dark eyes turned gloomy when Angela tested his authority, trying to intimidate her, but it didn't work. Instead, she stared back just as hard, never breaking eye contact. In the rational part of her mind, she hoped she hadn’t just fucked things up even more.

“Hey, sorry if we're interrupting trouble in paradise, but you had better let us in right now,” The man with the gun said.

“Do me a favour and shut the fuck up!” CJ angrily snapped at him.

“You better watch your mouth,” the officer suddenly threatened.

“Why, what are you going to do?” CJ mocked, aiming his gun at him.

“Cut it out!” Angela said.

“He is a cop, CJ,” Terry nervously pointed out, who had been silently watching the situation unfold.

“So what?” he said as the elevator doors began closing, the man with the gun stopping them again.

“For fucks sake, CJ, look at the state of them. They need help, just let them in!” Angela said.

“We're not gonna' cause any trouble. Just let us stay here for a while… please,” the fair-haired woman pleaded, sounding exhausted.

Silence fell among the two groups again, the air thick with tension. Angela looked up at the guard, her own green eyes pleading along with the surviving group. CJ glanced from each person, inspecting them carefully before looking down at Angela, sighing deeply.

“Okay,” he said, jerking his head towards the two younger guards, “come out of there slowly and give your weapons to Bart and Terry.”

The group backed away defensively, their faces twisting in anger.

“Don't do it.”

“You must be out of your fuckin' mind!” the cop said through gritted teeth.

“Well you can take your ass over to Quality Inn if it's still there, Shaq!” CJ shouted, hands tense around his gun. “Huh, you wanna’ do that?”

“How do you expect them to just give up their weapons?” Angela asked.

Lowering his gun, CJ gripped her, taking a few steps back before leaning in close to her. “Listen, they’re getting what they want – they're staying, but no way in hell I'm letting them in armed,” he whispered harshly. “I don't fucking know or trust them; these fuckers could turn on us at any moment.”

“Maybe they wouldn’t have a reason to turn on us if you weren’t being such an asshole,” she muttered, ignoring the look he gave her. “You let me in, after questioning me, but still.”

“You were on your own and unarmed, not exactly a big threat.”

Disregarding the last comment, Angela bit her lip, thinking over CJ’s words. She could only _just_ see his point of view, though he could have handled the situation better. She knew these people needed safety, but there was a risk of them being a threat, especially since they outnumbered the guards.

Hating that she had to agree with him, she turned to the group, looking apologetical. “Sorry, but it's the only way you can come in.”

A couple of moments later, the blonde woman silently stepped forward, shotgun raised away from her chest. Her eyes glanced at the officer solemnly, before coming out of the elevator.

“Hey, don't give him that gun,” the guy with the gun said.

Ignoring him, the woman stepped towards the guards, passing the shotgun to Terry. Stepping beside her, Angela took the opportunity to mouth the word 'sorry' to her, feeling awful about the situation. The corners of the woman's mouth flickered up slightly, lips tight when she nodded, acknowledging Angela’s apology. Giving a slight smile back, Angela turned around to see Bart snatching the gun off the other man.

He glared at Bart before sighing loudly, “fuck!”

CJ smirked when the group followed behind him. “Smart move.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Standing in front of the wall of televisions, the group were stunned, watching the carnage unfolding before them. Small towns had been totally overrun by the monsters, major cities infested with them. In the middle of the streets, cameras filmed people being attacked and eaten alive, some coming back to life to do the same to others. America was in a state of massacre, a nation-wide red alert.

“This is bad,” Michael, the guy in the white shirt, whispered, eyes darting to the different screens.

“Don’t even know how this started, where it came from,” Angela said, the blonde woman, Ana, sharing a concerned look.

“Alright, let's go, guys,” CJ suddenly said, breaking everyone out of their trance. “Come on, get your own little TV. C'mon, let's go.”

Quickly herding the group away from the televisions, he sent them to sit on the sofas. Angela sat at the end of one sofa, making room for Ana and the officer, Kenneth, who clutched his arm in pain. Angela saw the blood dribbling down his brown skin, soaking into his uniform.

“Anything I can help with?” she asked, Ana examining the wound.

“Yeah, can you grab a cloth or something?” the blonde replied.

Looking around the room, Angela spotted a stack of napkins on the coffee table, grabbing them all. Gathering some out the pile, she applied them firmly to the wound, sitting next to the officer. Meanwhile, the couple, Andre and Luda, stood in the middle of the room, Luda clutching her swollen stomach with discomfort on her face.

“Excuse me, please? Is there a restroom?” her broad, Russian accent asked CJ.

“No, you're staying here,” he replied, ignoring her moans of distress.

“So, why don't you tell us which spot in here you'd like us to take a piss?” Andre asked, his arm lazily waving to the floor.

Angela raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what CJ’s reaction would be, though to her surprise, he just shook his head.

“Alright, it's around the corner, that way,” though when Andre began leading Luda away, CJ shouted, “whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're goin'?”

Andre clutched his wife's hand protectively. “She's not going anywhere alone.”

CJ scrunched his face, mimicking Andre. “She's not going anywhere- this is a fuckin' nursery school!”

“Why don't you go with them then, if you want to keep an eye on everyone so badly,” Angela groaned, focusing her attention on Kenneth’s arm.

CJ didn’t respond, instead turning to the youngest guard. “Terry, go with ‘em.”

When Terry escorted the couple to the bathroom, CJ sat down in his chair as he and Bart turned their attention back to the televisions, as per usual. Michael paced the room, looking at all the different news reports. Even though she was occupied with keeping the bleeding from Kenneth's arm at bay, Angela looked up at the televisions, specifically to one certain news report. A town sheriff stood in front of the camera, a giant bonfire behind him as people hurled bodies on it, the flames growing. The sheriff began explaining about killing the infected.

_“You gotta' shoot 'em in the head.”_

The words from the radio report she had heard this morning echoed in Angela’s head, the news report regaining her attention again when the camera suddenly zoomed in on a body lying on the ground. It's limbs and head spasmed violently, convulsing on the ground, the sheriff calling it a ‘twitcher’.

“Twitcher,” Bart smirked at CJ, “now that is one cool motherfucker!”

Angela scoffed in disgust, wondering how the kid can find amusement in the situation. Warm liquid started to pool in her hands and she quickly looked down, seeing the blood from Kenneth's wound had completely soaked through the napkins. Swiftly changing them out for fresh ones, the thick liquid only pooled even more. Panicked eyes shot to Ana, who stared back with frustration.

“The bleeding's not going to stop on its own,” she stated, looking up towards CJ, “I need to stitch his arm.”

“What are you, a fuckin' doctor?” he asked, seeming disinterested with the situation.

“No, I'm a fucking nurse.”

An amused snort came from Angela, earning herself a stern look from CJ. He grabbed his keys, tossing them to Bart. “First Aid kit’s in the security office.”

Ana stood up, looking down at Angela. “Are you okay holding his arm?”

Angela looked at Kenneth, who offered her a small nod, and she held the wound tighter. “Yeah, should be fine.”

Reassured, Ana followed Bart out the shop when CJ smiled up at one of the televisions, which showed clips of the army being called in.

“Huh? What'd I tell you, boy?” he looked for Bart, but noticing he had gone, he instead turned to Kenneth and Angela. “America always sorts this shit out.”

Angela tore her gaze off the screen and put more tissues on Kenneth's arm; all the tissues were absorbing the blood at a rapid rate. She quickly grabbed more and replaced them, cleaning up his arm. Andre and Luda appeared through the doors, Terry behind them. The two of the sat on the sofa next to the one Angela was on.

“You can relax now, baby,” Andre murmured, helping his wife sit down.

Angela turned around, smiling softly at the two. “You okay?”

Luda returned a small smile of her own, nodding her head. “Yes. Thank you, er...”

“Angela.”

“Angela,” Luda repeated, her accent prominent.

Returning her attention to Kenneth, she jumped slightly when he finally spoke, his deep voice startling her, since he had been silent from the elevators up until now. “My brother's there, he's waiting for me.”

Angela followed his gaze to a certain television screen, the headline 'Fort Pastor' flashing up on the screen, images of the army accompanying it. “Fort Pastor?”

“It’s a nearby army base, they’ve turned it into a safe haven, urging citizens to go there,” Kenneth explained. “Before my entire squad was taken out, we were ordered to round up as many people as we could, directing them to the base. I’m gonna’ meet my brother there.”

The officer’s eyes went vacant, staring through the television rather than at it, scenes of what he witnessed replaying in his head. Angela shuddered at the thought of what the police officer had seen out there. Ana suddenly marched through the shop, the green medical box that Angela had used under her arm, Bart casually walking behind her. Placing the box on the table, the nurse began rifling through it, picking out the supplies she required.

“Bandages are in the pouch,” Angela said, the item Ana needed, “I put them in there after I patched myself up.”

Revealing the dressing under her shirt, Ana took a closer look. “Need me to look at it?”

“Yeah, you probably should,” Angela said, making sure to keep pressure on Kenneth’s arm. “The wound wasn’t that bad, just cleaned it up and applied a butterfly stitch.”

Ana nodded, picking out the bandages from the box. Carefully, Angela slid away from Kenneth, the nurse’s hand replacing hers as she took over, cleansing the wound. Michael, who still paced the floor, stripped off his bloodied shirt, leaving him in a plain t-shirt, discarding it in the trash. He then walked over to CJ, kneeling in front of him.

“So, what's the plan?”

“The plan is you drink a nice tall glass of shut-the-fuck-up,” CJ mumbled.

“Okay, that's one idea,” he said to himself. “What about locking this place down, ‘cause sooner or later, they’re gonna get in here.”

“That's a smart idea,” Angela chimed in, listening in on the conversation, “especially since you didn’t clear them out like you thought you did.”

Finally tearing his gaze away from the news, CJ nodded, agreeing with the idea instead of getting angry. “Hmm, that's good. I hadn't thought of that.”

“Hey, no doubt. You probably already thought of about putting a sign up on the roof, because you know there's still planes in the air. Might be good to let them know we're alive,” Michael pointed out.

Angela took note of his smart and logical thinking, which reassured the decision of letting them stay; it was nice to finally have someone with reasoning.

“We can get some paint from Case Hardware. Use some office doors to board up weak spots,” the guard suggested.

“That's a solid plan... CJ, is it?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, CJ,” Michael said, standing up.

CJ stood as well, clearing his throat, to gain everyone's attention. “Alright, everybody, listen up. I'm gonna give everybody a job to do and I expect you to do all of it. I don't wanna’ see any half-assin’,” he announced.

“Who died and made you dictator?” Angela asked.

“You keep forgetting I decided to graciously let you stay. We’re also the ones with guns,” he said, placing a hand in his holstered gun before looking at Michael. “You know what, why don't you start by cleaning up that mess you made in Metropolis.”

“Hold up,” Andre suddenly interrupted, “my wife is pregnant. You can't expect her to be movin’ heavy shit.”

Before CJ could begin to argue back, Angela spoke before him, “Luda could paint some signs up on the roof. She won't have to do much lifting and she could sit down.”

“I will paint,” Luda meekly said.

Angela quickly turned to CJ. “We need some signs done anyway, so I could go up and help her.”

“Fine, she can go and paint, but you're not going with her,” CJ said, pointing to Angela. Instead, he pointed to Ana. “You can go and paint whatever on the roof with preggers over there.” His finger then shifted back to Angela. “You’re comin' with me.”

“Great,” Angela muttered to herself.

CJ subsequently began assigning different jobs to the rest of the group, starting with Michael, who had to clear up the shattered glass from the store window they smashed when they initially entered the mall. Andre and Kenneth, both considerably broad and muscular men, were ordered to start collecting anything they could to board up doors and windows. Ana and Luda were assigned painting duty, while Angela begrudgingly must follow the three guards for ‘clean up duty’, which was making sure no more of those things were in the mall and disposing of the ones that were.

“They said the first one is in the fountain,” Bart said, the four of them now on the lower floor, rushing ahead as they approached it.

“Do I really have to do this with you?” Angela timidly asked, heart racing at the thought of coming face-to-face with one of those things again.

“Hey, CJ, look! Terry!” Bart suddenly shouted, stopping CJ from answering Angela's question. “Take a look at Ben Cozine.”

“Ben?” Terry asked, him and CJ rushing to the scene, Angela close behind them.

“Hey, Ben!” Bart continued to shout as the other three made it to the fountain. “Ben!”

Peaking past Terry’s shoulder, Angela recoiled in terror, gasping at what she saw in the water fountain. The monster, once a human man, screamed and thrashed in the shallow water of the fountain, body jerking awkwardly. She noticed the thing had the same uniform as the three guards.

Terry gazed in horror. “Look at him…”

“That’s Ben?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

The young guard swallowed hard, before nodding his head. “Yeah, it is. He mustn’t have even made it outside.”

“Look, he's a twitcher,” Bart pointed out. “TV says you gotta' shoot 'em in the head.”

“TV said a lot of things that aren't true,” Terry said, still staring at his infected friend.

“The radio said it as well,” Angela stated, cringing at the screeching body in the water.

CJ pushed past the trio towards Ben, his gun raised, clearly fed up of the situation. “Well, fuck the fucker. I told him not to go.”

Taking aim, he closed one eye and fired. Ben's pale eyes met theirs as the bullet penetrated his skull, blood spurting out. His head jerked back, the impact sending the body into the water. Angela's eyes fixated on the floating, lifeless body, watching as the translucent water ran crimson.

“Let's go,” CJ mumbled, holstering his gun, walking away.

Bart followed the older man, Terry lingering before also turning away. Before turning around, a flash of silver captured Angela's eye. Squinting, she tried to figure out what the shiny object was, moving around the fountain to get a closer look. A silver handgun laid on the ground, Angela’s eyes widening. Carefully picking it up, the gun cold and heavy in her hands, she realised it must have been Ben’s, falling out of his holster when he fell in the fountain.

Angela only had minor experience with guns, but she did know some basics, like checking the ammo. She did so, and to her amazement, it was fully loaded. Checking the safety, she looked around, before tucking the gun in the waistband of her sweatpants. The cold steel sent a shiver up her spine as she adjusted her shirt, baggy enough the hide the gun well. She harboured a terrible feeling in her stomach that she might need to use this at some point. Now she had an advantage on CJ, if he or the others didn’t find out.

“Angela!” CJ suddenly yelled from a distance. “Stop fucking around and come here!”

Making sure the gun was safely tucked away, she stood up and made her way to the group. When Angela found the guards, they were all stood outside a sports shop, a trail of blood leading inside.

“Where were you?” he asked her.

“Um, I just wanted to take a closer look at the body, maybe see how this ‘infection’ works,” she lied, trying to keep cool, “just curious.”

“Yeah, well, ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?” he asked.

Angela shrugged her shoulders. “Cats have nine lives.”

Before he could reply, a vicious growl came from inside the store, causing both Angela and Terry to flinch.

Bart smirked at the two before entering the store, using the tip of his gun to nudge the brim of his cap. “Pussies.”

CJ jerked his head, also going inside, Angela and Terry reluctantly following. They traced the blood trail through the store, becoming thicker and darker the deeper they went. They came across a body, one of those things, slumped on the floor, a broken polo club imbedded in its head. CJ nudged it with his foot, and when it didn’t indicate signs of life, they moved to the closet at the back of the store. The blood pooled on the floor, seeping from under the door, movement coming from inside.

CJ took the lead, Bart flanking him, Terry and Angela maintaining their distance. The two guards had their guns ready, CJ counting to three before opening the door. The inside of the closet was splattered with blood, dripping from the walls to the floor. A man laid on the floor, belly ripped open and intestines half-eaten. His white eyes landed on CJ, baring his bloodied teeth. He only let the thing growl once more before shooting it in the head, giving it another two shots before its body slumped back.

“That should be the last of ‘em in here,” he said. “That Michael guy said they only saw three, but I’ll give the place one last sweep. Bart, Terry, you two can start clearing this shit up.”

Bart frowned at CJ. “What?”

“You mean... the bodies?” Terry asked.

“Yes. Wrap them up in some sheets, move them to the roof, and then throw them off,” CJ explained to a horrified Terry and Bart.

“Jesus,” Angela cringed, feeling even more sick than before.

“What else are supposed to do? Ain’t no graveyard to bury them,” CJ said. “Anyway, I’ve got a job for you too, can’t have slackers here.”

Narrowing her eyes, she followed him as he walked back through the store, picking up the discarded mop and handing it to her, kicking the bucket of water towards her. “You are gonna’ mop up all this mess up.”

Angela stared at the bloodied floor. “Seriously?”

CJ nodded, back turning to her and walking away. “Get to work.”

Much to her dismay, Angela began mopping up the blood trail, starting from outside the store. Blood never usually bothered her, but the amount of blood she was mopping up was like something out of a horror film, the stale coppery smell lingering in the air. Despite this, Angela continued cleaning the floor, yelling at Bart when he walked more blood out carrying the bodies from the store with Terry. The closet was the worst, Angela spending thirty minutes alone just to clean it. Once she was finished, she met up with Michael, Andre, and Kenneth, who had all finished barricading and fortifying every door and window in the mall. CJ then ordered them to the rooftop to help paint more signs.

On the roof, the sun bared its heat on everyone. Angela sighed, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand, admiring her finished work from her crouched position. On a large piece of white cloth, she had painted the words ‘HELP ALIVE INSIDE’ in black paint. With extended paint rollers, Michael and Ana painted the letters ‘SOS’ in white and orange on the ground, large enough for a plane to identify. Luda sat on the ground, busy painting another sign to display from the building.

“Need help hanging that up?” Kenneth asked, standing above her.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, accepting his helping hand, pulling her up from the ground.

Grabbing one end each, the two dragged the banner to the rooftop edge. Curiously, Angela peeked over, counting now a hundred of the monsters outside the mall, even more shambling in from the surrounding areas. Craning her neck away, she swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on the task at hand. They threw the banner over the edge, allowing it wave in the breeze. With a hammer each, they both nailed the banner along the seam to the roof edge, securing it so it didn't fall.

“Looks good,” Kenneth commented when he stood up.

Angela stood too, nodding to Andre as he passed with fresh paint cans in his arms. “Hopefully somebody will see it.”

A loud thud followed by a curse caught Angela and Kenneth's attention. They looked over to see Bart and Terry carrying the last body, wrapped in a bed sheet with duct tape, to the edge, where CJ stood.

“Watch what you're doin’, man!” Bart yelled at Terry, the two men stumbling with the last body.

Ana appeared next to Angela, shaking her head while they watched the duo carry the deceased body up to the edge, where they had thrown the two previous ones.

“Okay, on two,” Bart said, bracing themselves at the edge. “One, two.”

With one last swing they let go, the body falling off the building edge, landing with a heavy thud on the ground below. The rest of the group gathered near the edge, looking down at the growing crowd in the parking lot.

“What are they?” Michael asked, more of a spoken thought than a direct question.

They all looked at the forest at the back end of the parking lot, those things emerging from the trees and bushes by the dozens, all following each other towards the mall. Angela’s eyes switched to the ones that gathered right beneath the group, all of them staring back with colourless eyes, groaning and clawing at the brick walls.

If they ever broke into the mall, Angela thought, they would for sure be eaten alive in a matter of minutes; good job they reinforced every entrance, so that should never happen.

“I don't know,” Ana answered Michael’s question. “Why are they coming here?”

“Memory, maybe. Instinct.” Kenneth took a step forward, staring into the distance. “Maybe they're coming for us.”

“Instinct, huh?” Bart repeated, before glancing at Terry. “If that was you down there, Terry, you would be jerking off.”

A look of disgust crossed Angela’s face, Michael scowling at Bart while Kenneth shook his head disapprovingly. Instead of getting angry or even embarrassed, Terry just nodded his head, looking down at the crowd.

“Probably.”

Two gunshots suddenly rang out in the distance, everyone in the group jumping in surprise. Everyone frantically began looking for the source, wondering if it was help coming to rescue them. Scanning the area around them, Angela spotted a figure on a rooftop way across the street. Raising one hand to block the sun, she could just make the figure out - a man waving his arms.

“Over there,” she said, pointing to where the man stood.

“There's someone on that roof,” Ana said, also squinting.

Raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes, CJ searched for the figure, trying to get a better look.

Angela stood next to him, eyes still on the figure who held something up. “Can you see him?”

“Yeah, his name’s Andy,” he said, “says he's alone.”

“He may as well be on the moon,” Andre murmured, shrugging his shoulders.

“Poor guy,” Ana said, but stopped when she noticed him gesturing frantically. “What's he pointing at?”

Following his direction, Angela turned around and saw what he was signalling at. Grinning in disbelief, a wave of excitement washing over her, she gripped CJ’s arm to force him to turn around as well.

“Look!”

In the distance, a military helicopter flew towards the mall. Angela began jumping up and down as it flew nearer, flailing her arms in hope the pilot could see her. Following her lead, the entire group tried to attract the attention of the chopper, jumping and shouting wildly. Even CJ waved his arms in hope of being seen.

The helicopter flew directly over the mall, the group becoming more excited, till it started to pass. Angela's heart sank when it began flying away from the mall.

“Where's it goin'?”

“Wait, don't go!”

“Please!”

“No, why is it leaving!” Angela shouted, kicking the ground in annoyance when it grew small in the distance.

Just as moral sky-rocketed quickly, it plummeted back down. While Angela seethed with anger, Luda started panicking behind her, Andre having to console her. Michael and Kenneth’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, while Bart strung a few curse words under his breath. CJ let his binoculars hang around his neck, huffing in anger. Angela felt a small hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Ana.

“Don't worry, its safe here. We'll just wait for them to come back,” she said.

That's if it came back, Angela thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

When the sun started to set, the group called it a day, gathering back down in the electronics store. After what was the most traumatic and hard-working day, CJ rewarded the group with food; a cold can of tomato soup each. The group had collectively glared at the guard when he brought the tins out, Andre refraining from throwing it back in his face. Although Angela stared at the pitiful meal with distain, her stomach rumbled painfully, reminding her she hadn’t eaten a single thing today. Deciding it was better than nothing, she took her first spoonful, cringing at the bland and cold texture. Michael sat next to her, both on the floor with their backs against the wall.

“Enjoying the gourmet food?” he asked sarcastically.

Angela snorted, taking another spoonful. “Delicious.”

They both chuckled quietly, eating more of the cold, pureed slop.

“So, how did you get in here?” Michael asked, glancing at the guards. “Presume they just didn’t let you walk in.”

She sighed as she recalled how she ended up at the mall. “I wrecked my car on the barriers outside the parking lot. Those things were on my tail, so I jumped the fence and tried my luck with the mall. All the doors were locked, but I managed to jimmy open a bathroom window and climb inside.”

Looking over at CJ, who was following the news as per usual, Angela pursed her lips. “Treated me the same way they did to you; pointed guns at me and told me ‘this was their mall’ and how I couldn’t stay here. Luckily, Terry helped me convince CJ to let me stay, and it also helped that I was alone, unarmed, and injured – basically a low threat to them.”

“Out of the three of them, Terry is the only one I like at the moment,” Michael said. “CJ’s just an outright asshole, and Bart is just…”

“An immature jackass?” Angela said, both laughing quietly. “He may be an asshole, but no matter what, I’m grateful CJ let me stay. I’d probably be dead by now if he put me back out there.”

“Yeah, only letting us stay if we follow his rules, treating us like goddamn dogs,” Michael muttered, continuing to eat his soup.

“Hey, while we’re on the topic,” Angela suddenly said, causing Michael to look at her, “how the hell did you all get in here? I checked every door on this place, and they were all locked.”

“The employees’ door round the back,” Michael explained. “We tried crowbarring it open, then one of those things saw us, so Kenneth used his shotgun on it.”

Angela nodded thoughtfully. “The thing that saw you, didn’t happen to have an arm missing, did it?”

“Yeah, why?” Michael frowned.

“Same one that nearly got me,” she stated.

The two of them fell silent after that, continuing to eat their soup. A little while later, Michael had migrated over to Ana, checking up on her. Angela used the space to curl on the floor, graciously accepting a pillow from Terry, who sat on one of the couches with Bart. The painkillers had long worn off by now, Angela feeling her upper body ache as she laid on the carpeted floor. She made sure to place her back to the wall, keeping the gun out of sight, especially from CJ.

Her eyes flickered to the man, who sat in his chair, eyes glued to the television. He sat forward, elbows on his knees while his fingers twiddled together. Angela wondered why he was so interested in the news, since it was just repeating the same information since this morning. However, the more Angela stared at him, the more she noticed minor details about him. His fingers twiddling together weren’t an act of boredom, but out of anxiety, one of his legs bouncing nervously.

CJ suddenly looked at Angela, his brown eyes meeting her green ones. Holding the gaze for only a second, Angela diverted hers to the floor, fingers scratching at the carpet. After a few moments, her body started feeling heavy, her eyes burning with exhaustion. Just as she felt her eyes close, someone shook her awake, Angela jolted from her position.

CJ crouched over her. “Time to get moving.”

“What?” she yawned, stretching as she sat up.

“All of you, c’mon,” he said, suddenly hoisting Angela up, who grumbled at him, “you’re all coming with me.”

Luda gave Andre a puzzled look, both slowly rising from the couch they sat on. Kenneth glared at CJ as he too stood up, Ana and Michael remaining seated.

“Why?” Michael questioned.

CJ swung his keys on his finger. “I'm showing you were you're sleeping tonight.”

“Why can't we just sleep here?” Ana asked.

“Because this is our place,” Bart smiled, standing from his couch, Terry silently watching everyone.

Michael stood, holding his hands up. “Hold on a minute-”

CJ threateningly hovered his hand over his gun, silencing Michael. “Just shut the fuck up and follow me.”

The group shuffled tiredly as CJ escorted them to the first floor of the mall, Bart and Terry following. Angela glanced behind her to see Terry trailing close-by. His eyes met hers, offering her an apologetic look, before turning away. CJ suddenly stopped in front the open space in front of Metropolis, where the store window used to be.

He turned to the group, pointing inside the store as he grabbed the overhead shutter. “In.”

“You're locking us in?” Ana asked in disbelief.

“Yes, now get in,” CJ snapped impatiently.

Silently, Kenneth was the first to enter the store, scowling at the guards. Andre and Luda followed, Andre supporting his wife inside, Michael and Ana reluctantly following. The last the enter, Angela trailed behind lazily after the group, her body sore and tired.

“I don't want anybody sneekin’ around and stealin’ shit,” he explained, slamming the gate closed before securing it. “Comprende?”

Leaning against the cold bars of the shutters, Angela crossed her arms as she stared idly at him. “You're a real dick, you know that?”

A smirk appearing on his face, CJ strode over to Angela, his fingers lacing through the gaps of the shutters to grab her shirt. Jerking her towards him, there was only an inch of space between their faces, the bars separating them. “Get use’ to it.”

Angela made no visible sign of discomfort, which she felt at that exact moment. Instead, she stared CJ dead in the eyes, maintaining a fierce expression, showing no weakness. “Asshole.”

“Sweet dreams,” he muttered, finally letting go of her, walking off with Bart and Terry.

Angela stared at the three figures while the group began claiming their spots to sleep in, watching them until they disappeared out of sight. Pushing herself away from the gate, Angela walked into the heart of the store where everyone congregated. Mostly everyone had picked their chosen bunks, Luda and Andre occupying the king-sized bed, naturally, because of Luda's condition. Kenneth sat in a large leather armchair, checking the stations on his radio, while Ana curled up on a small couch next to the large bed. Michael paced up and down the room, not choosing a place yet. Angela decided she would take the single bed that rested against the back wall, opposite Kenneth's chair.

As she sat on the bed, Michael sighed as he paced, shaking his head, “those assholes are gonna’ get us killed, we have to do something.”

“I’m not doing anything to create problems for Luda and me,” Andre said, soothing his wife's stomach. “The helicopter's coming back soon.”

“I hope so,” Michael murmured, though loud enough for everyone to hear.

Head snapping up, Luda’s eye filled with worry, causing Andre's brow to furrow at Michael. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Means it might come, it might not. We don't know,” Michael said.

Angela had already accepted this thought, though it seemed like the others hadn’t.

“What do you mean it not come back?” Luda panicked as she raised herself off the bed, looking at her husband. “You said it was coming back! We have to get to hospital!”

“Hey!” Andre was swift to comfort Luda, easing her back on the bed. “’Ay, baby, listen, listen. Don't worry, okay? This guy, he doesn't know shit, alright? It's coming back.”

Once Luda calmed down, she settled back into bed. Andre, on the other hand, looked angry as he stood up, scowling at Michael. Angela tensed up, sensing a confrontation was about to happen.

“Hey, my man, you know I hear you talkin’ a lot, you know you always sayin’ something… who the fuck are you that we should listen, huh?” Andre's voice raised on the last question as he stood face to face with Michael. “What are you, like, in the special ops, you in the marines? What the fuck do you do?”

Taken back with the question, Michael stood there in silence for a few moments before answering truthfully. “I sell televisions at Best Buy.”

Andre began chuckling to himself, turning towards Kenneth, his laughing becoming bolder. “Ay, officer, how do you like following a guy that sells TVs?”

“Not as much as I like following a guy who steals them,” Kenneth replied bluntly, resulting in Andre rolling his eyes. “I'm not following anyone. I'm going to Fort Pastor to get my brother.”

Andre shook his head and walked back over to Luda. “Un-fucking-believable,” he grunted, kicking a table.

Becoming frustrated with Andre’s behaviour, Angela sat up from her bed, raising her hands. “Can you just calm down?” she asked as calmly as she could.

There was no need for the way Andre was acting, Angela thought; Michael was only being realistic. Anyway, in Angela's view, Michael was right about CJ – they needed to do something before things got worse, especially if the helicopter wasn't returning and they wanted to survive in the mall.

“Why should I?” Andre snapped.

“Because we're all in the same situation,” Angela replied. “Every here is scared. Some of us may not show it, but we're all scared. None of us know what the hell is going on but fighting among ourselves isn’t going to help.”

Again, Andre laughed, swatting his hand at her, showing Angela she was of no importance to him. “Why the fuck should I listen to you? Who the fuck are you?”

After that comment, Angela's frustration point had snapped, her anger suddenly spilling out. She pushed herself off the bed and squared up to Andre, who was taken aback by the action.

“Who the fuck am I?” she spat, repeating his words. “I'm just a normal high school teacher, who should have been at work this morning. Instead, I watched as my best friend turned into one of those monsters and nearly rip my fucking throat out with her bare teeth! I watched as those monsters destroyed my neighbourhood and ate everyone in it!”

Angela's anger hit a peak, partly due to Andre, but mainly due to the trauma and pent up emotions she had experienced today, everything bubbling over as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“The shit I've seen today will stay with me with the rest of my life,” Angela said, rubbing her eyes, “my life as I knew it has gone now, forever! So, don't you ask me ‘who the fuck am I’, because you are no fucking different from me. We're all in the same boat here, buddy, so stop acting like a fucking child and realise that we all need to help each other out!”

The whole room fell into a nervous silence. Everyone's eyes were on Angela as tears streamed down her face, her anger gradually fading. Andre, who had no words to say, lowered his head in shame as he laid back down on the bed, rubbing Luda's stomach.

Wiping her eyes with her palm, Angela turned to Michael. “Maybe we should talk about that plan tomorrow.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Yeah, maybe everyone should get a good night’s rest; I think we all need one.”

Walking back to her bed, Angela curled up on it, not caring to get under the sheets. She could hear everyone retiring to their places, yawns and sighs filling the room.

For the next hour, the room remained silent, each person going over their thoughts in their heads, reliving the events that happened that day. Luda was the first person to fall asleep, Andre stroking her hair as her arms laid over her stomach protectively. Kenneth had finally given up on checking his radio, discarding it on a coffee table as he sat back on his chair. Both Michael and Ana were still awake, Ana lying on the couch while Michael sat in a recliner chair opposite her.

Angela laid on her bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She had tried falling asleep many times over the hour but failed, even though she felt physically exhausted. Everything felt alien to her: the bed, the room, the atmosphere. Nothing soothed her. All she desperately wanted was to be in her own bed back at her house, but she knew that could never happen.

Angela suddenly felt a presence near her, and she quickly sat up. Standing at the foot of the bed was Andre, hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his head as he stared at her.

“Can I help you?” Angela asked quietly, wondering why he was there.

“Yeah, I was just wonderin’ if you were using that pillow,” he pointed the pillow Angela had thrown to the end of the bed, as she already had two. “Luda needs some support for her feet.”

Angela bobbed her head, relaxing back into the bed. “No, you can take it. She needs it more than I do.”

He picked it up, offering Angela a small nod. “Thanks.”

Before he walked away, though, he stopped and slowly turned back to Angela, fiddling the pillow in his hands. He looked at the foot of the bed, silently asking to sit there, Angela shifting her feet for him.

“Look, about before, I didn’t mean to be like that. It's just, I wanna’ protect Luda and my baby; they’re my number one priority,” he said under his breath, not letting anyone else hear.

Angela smiled lightly, swaying her head as she chuckled. “Hey, no hard feelings. I think I got a little overly emotional as well.”

“Can’t blame you,” Andre smiled back. “I just don't want any enemy's in here. It's just, I need to give her some hope, y’know. She might stress the baby out if she keeps worrying.”

“I know,” Angela sighed, “but she's safe and there's so much supplies here as well, for her and the baby. There’s a whole store just for babies in here.”

“Well, I hate to say it, but I agree with Michael,” Andre said. “We're not safe with that asshole in charge.”

“Well, he has let us all stay here,” Angela whispered, “maybe he’ll come around.”

“Yeah, when pigs fly.”

Silence fell as Andre sighed, lifting himself off the bed. “Look, thanks again. I'll see you in the morning,” he whispered, returning to the king-sized bed and slipping the pillow under Luda's feet.

Angela stretched across the single bed, yawing as she let her back hit the mattress again. Nestling into the pillows, the lights suddenly went out, plunging everyone into absolute darkness. A gasp caught in Angela's throat, startled from the sudden change; she couldn’t see anything or anyone and it frightened her, leaving her feeling vulnerable. Luckily, a few moments later after calming herself, her eyes began adjusting to the darkness and she could only just make out the outlines of everyone’s bodies.

With the loss of the gentle hum from the generators, which had been background noise, complete silence fell through the mall. However, as time passed, Angela could faintly hear harrowing moans drifting through the mall. The more she listened, the louder the screams and groans became from those monsters, hearing hundreds of fists pounding against the walls outside of the mall.

Fear engulfed Angela, quickly fumbling under the bed covers, wrapping them tightly around her body and pulling them over her head, trying to block out the sounds. Even under the blankets, she could still hear them, becoming louder and louder. Burrowing deeper into the bed, she clamped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for morning to come quick.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

It was dawn when the lights switched on, breaking the darkness in the mall, classical music playing loudly through the speakers. Angela woke from her deep sleep, head appearing from beneath the covers, her eyes squinting at the harsh lights. Next to her, Kenneth sat in his chair already awake, fiddling with his radio again. Sitting up, she yawned loudly, spotting Andre and Luda rousing from their sleep while Ana uncurled herself from her sleeping position. Michael was the first on his feet, scrunching his face as he stretched his back.

“Morning,” Angela said, rubbing her eyes as she received a couple mumbles in reply.

“Andre, I need to use bathroom,” Luda whispered suddenly, crossing her legs tightly.

“Okay, baby,” Andre mumbled groggily, standing up from the bed. “There’s gotta’ be one in here.”

“There isn’t,” Ana said, pointing to the display toilets, “all the bathrooms in here are just for show; I checked last night.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta’ be shitting me,” Andre hissed.

Luda clutched her stomach and sighed painfully, “I can't hold it longer.”

Andre rushed to his wife’s side, caressing her shoulders soothingly. “Don't worry, baby, I'll get you to a bathroom.”

In the distance, Angela suddenly the ding of the elevator, faint footsteps following it. Discreetly grabbing the gun from under her pillow, she quickly tucked it into her jeans before pushing the covers off her, swinging her legs from the bed and walking to the shutter. The footsteps became louder, Angela craning her neck to see a figure walking through the mall.

“Hey, someone's coming,” she said, looking back to the group.

“Thank God,” Michael said, voice rough.

Angela silently agreed, as she couldn't wait to get out of the store. Everyone needed the bathroom and desperately wanted to freshen up, Angela included, since they were all still wearing their clothes from yesterday. The coppery smell of dried up blood and stale sweat had started to linger in the air.

“Let’s get their attention, see if they will let us out,” Ana suggested, appearing next to Angela at the shutter.

Watching the figure come closer, Angela realised it was Terry, an annoyed expression on his face as he stalked through the mall. She smacked her hand on the gate, calling out his name. “Terry?”

“Hey, hey!” Ana shouted when he didn’t respond. “Hey!”

Terry finally noticed them, directing his attention to them, stopping outside the store. “What?”

“The bathroom in here is fake, it doesn't work,” Ana replied.

The young guard sighed under his breath. “I'll tell CJ.”

“I’m telling you.”

“C’mon, Terry, Luda needs the bathroom and we all want to freshen up,” Angela pleaded, fingers lacing through the bars. “Please, we won't do anything.”

With an unsure look, he briefly glanced behind him, as if someone was watching, before grabbing his keys. Angela sighed with relief as he unlocked the door, Ana waiting impatiently. When he opened the door, the nurse strode past him, stalking towards the bathroom while Angela smiled meekly. “Thanks.”

Terry gave no verbal response, only a small nod of his head before walking towards Hallowed Grounds, the coffee bar. Angela's smile disappeared as she watched him walk away, figuring he mustn’t be a morning person. Finally free from the store, the group decided to split and do their own business, Michael agreeing everyone had to meet back in twenty minutes.

Angela escorted Luda to the bathroom, assuring Andre she would be fine. They encountered Ana inside, scrubbing the blood and grime from her skin. When the three of them freshened up, they entered the women’s clothing store across from them, Angela grabbing the first two items she saw; an oversized grey tank top and a pair of dark jeans, keeping the sneakers she already had. In the private changing room, she quickly stripped off her clothes and changed into the fresh ones, making sure the gun was safely tucked away, the baggy tank concealing it well.

Walking out of the changing room, she spotted Ana changing in the middle of the store, slipping on a pair of running shoes.

“Feel better?” Angela asked.

“A little,” Ana sighed, straightening out her shirt.

Luda appeared from behind a rack of clothing, dressed in a floral pink dress and denim jacket. Meekly looking at the two women, she held her arms up, rotating her body.

“It look good?” she said, hands on her stomach.

“You look really pretty, Luda” Angela smiled, Ana nodding in agreement.

Through the silent mall, a sudden noise - like a door slamming open - echoed loudly, footsteps running loudly. The three women froze, all looking at each other with confusion.

“What the hell was that?” Angela wondered aloud, walking out the store.

The other two followed her, all of them seeking the source of the noise. From the men’s store opposite, Michael appeared, freshly clothed as he walked towards them.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

Before Angela could reply, Terry appeared by the coffee shop again, panting as he sprinted towards the elevators. They watched as he disappeared, the elevator taking him to the upper floor.

“That doesn't seem good,” Michael said lowly.

“What the hell is he running for?” Angela asked.

As if to answer her question, they suddenly heard faint gunshots coming from outside, a violent screech of tires following it. The four of them looked towards one of the boarded-up windows, where the shots came from. They all ran to the window, finding small crevices so they could peek into the outside. Angela flinched when she came eye-to-eye with one of those things, it’s bloodied hand clawing at the glass. However, looking past the crowds of the monsters, a huge BP truck suddenly came into view, horn blaring as it swerved through the parking lot with those things running after it.

Angela’s eyes widened as Michael exclaimed, “holy shit!”

“They must be survivors,” she said, another gunshot ringing out.

“Whoever they are, they obviously need help,” Ana said, looking at the others with a hard expression, “and we need to get them in.”

Finding Kenneth and Andre in the bathroom and updating them on the situation, the group took the elevator upstairs, presuming the guards were in the electronics store. However, when they entered the make-shift common area, no one was around.

“Where the fuck are they?” Andre asked.

The static of the multiple televisions caught Angela’s attention, grabbing the remote and trying to check any other channels. When no working news station appeared on, the same static screen appearing each time, she realised there was no news to be aired; everything was down.

“Shit,” she whispered, turning off the televisions.

“Hey!” Michael called from outside the store, “they went to the roof.”

Giving one last glance to the blank televisions, Angela followed the group, Michael leading them to the unlocked employee’s door, remembering the route they took yesterday. Running up the flight of stairs, Kenneth kicked the door open, sunlight and refreshing air flooding the stairwell. The group rushed out, greeted harshly by the guards.

Bart turned around and hastily pulled his gun out, panicking. “CJ!”

CJ turned to the group, his face twisting into anger. “How did you get out, and who gave you permission to loot the goddamn stores?”

“What are we gonna' do about that truck?” Ana asked, Andre waving off CJ’s questions behind her.

“We're not gonna' do anything about that truck,” he stated, Ana and Angela expressions also turning to anger, Michael and Kenneth coming up by their sides.

“You can't do that!” Angela said.

“There's people in there!” Ana argued.

“Yeah? And how do you know they're not all fucked up like everybody else out there?” CJ asked, pointing to the deadly crowd below.

“Well, for one thing, they're driving a truck,” Ana said as another gunshot went off, “oh, and shooting guns.”

On the ground below them, the truck drove in circles, avoiding the monsters that pursued it. When one tried jumping on the cab of the truck, a gun popped out through the window and shot it in its face. No matter how hard the driver tried, though, more and more of the infected surrounded the truck. Angela knew that if they kept arguing like this, those people weren’t going to last much longer.

“We need to do something quick or they're going to die down there,” Angela pleaded with him.

CJ took a step closer towards her, his tall stance threatening her. “If we start letting people in here, we're gonna' let the wrong ones in and then I'm dead. And you know what? I don't want to die.”

“No one wants to die, CJ,” Angela stated angrily, sick of his selfishness, “especially those people down there.”

“Who are the wrong ones?” Ana asked, hands on hips.

“Nobody here is sick, and I intend on keepin' it that way.”

Ana shook her head. “Look, I think we should just-”

“You know what, I did not ask for your opinion, lady!” CJ suddenly roared, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Ana, who tensed up. “Now if you wanna' argue with me, you can argue with this!”

Staring at the gun, Angela’s heart rate picked up, her body freezing on instinct. Next to her, she felt Kenneth’s arms brush against hers as he crowded in closer, Andre promptly pulled Luda behind him to protect her while Michael took a step towards CJ. “Hey, hey, take it easy.”

The gun swivelled to Michael's head. “Shut your fucking mouth!” CJ snapped, his aim turning back to Ana.

“You need to calm down,” Angela said, trying to make her voice sound stern.

Gritting his teeth, his eyes darted to her, hand twitching on his gun. “Just shut up.”

“Get the gun out of my face,” Ana suddenly warned, as he still wielded the gun at her.

“CJ, you can't just turn them away, you'll kill them!” Terry nervously said, his body vibrating with anxiety.

CJ kept his eyes and gun on Ana, not bothering to look at the young guard. “Tough shit. Self-defence.”

“You can’t do this!” Angela said, voice raising, the gun in her waistband coming to her mind as the situation escalated further.

“I'm not killing anybody!” Terry exclaimed.

“You know what?” CJ then shifted his gun on Terry, “I'll kill you.”

Terry raised his hands in the air, slowly taking a step away from the threatening man. “No, no, no! Stop it, CJ, don't do this.”

“Shut up!” CJ shouted, swivelling his gun to everyone in the group. “I'll kill each and every one of you to stay alive, you hear me?”

As his gun landed on Angela, her eyes widened in fear as she stared at the barrel of the gun, realising he was absolutely serious. CJ's expression faltered for a split second, looking at the expression on Angela’s face, before quickly moving the gun back to Ana, his snarl intensifying.

“I said get the fucking gun out of my face!” Ana yelled, the anger radiating from her.

“Ooh, you got quite a mouth on you,” CJ muttered.

“Somebody should show her how to use it,” Bart smirked, licking his lips.

Before anyone realised what she was doing, Angela made the hasty decision and reached into the waistband of her jeans and drew her gun, pointing it straight at CJ’s head. The tension in the air shifted, Angela surprising the group as their eyes widened in shock at the weapon in her hand. Bart muttered a curse under his breath as he suddenly pointed his gun to her, Terry drawing his gun but keeping it by his side. A moment of silence passed before CJ slowly turned his head towards the brunette, eyes dark as he snarled at her.

“Where the fuck did you get that from?”

She tried forcing the fear down, hands clammy and threatening to shake, while she stood under the man’s glare. Inside, she began regretting her split decision, but on the outside, she was stone-faced, attempting to speak with authority.

“CJ, put your gun down.”

“Where did you get-”

“Just,” Angela shouted, interrupting him from repeating his question, “put your gun down.”

“Or what?” he sneered, now moving his gun to her direction. “You don't have the balls to shoot me.”

“But do you have the balls to shoot me? Because if you do,” Angela’s voice wavered ever so slightly, her knees feeling weak at what she was about to say, “then you might as well do it now, because I'm not putting this gun down.”

The man stared at her with such intensity, the anger rolling off him in such strong waves that Angela felt like she could drown in it. Her eyes flickered between the two guns directed at her, her breathing becoming wobbly; she hoped she didn’t just make a terrible mistake and CJ wouldn’t call her bluff.

Michael suddenly leapt forward, seeing this as the ideal opportunity to intervene, punching Bart square in the nose. Dropping his gun, he cried out as Michael seized him, Kenneth snatching the gun from CJ when he became distracted. Terry now levelled his gun at the two guards, Kenneth holding CJ by his collar.

“Is there a holding cell in there?” Kenneth asked, keeping the guard restrained.

“Yeah, back in the security room,” Terry told Kenneth, pointing towards the stairwell.

“That's real good, man, you're gonna' get us all killed, dumbass. Fucking traitor!” CJ yelled at him, Ana taking his security belt.

Ignoring his shouts, Terry snatched the keys from CJ’s belt and took over from Michael, pointing his gun at Bart’s head as he dragged him to the stairwell, Kenneth following with CJ in tow. Angela, who still had her gun aimed at CJ, looked back the others, Michael waving her on as he picked up CJ’s gun. “You go with them, we’ve got this.”

Angela nodded, making her way to the stairwell to catch the other’s up. As she began running down the stairs, she overheard Andre talking to Michael.

“I hope you got a good plan.”

After a flight of stairs of shouting and swearing, an awkward elevator ride, and even more swearing, they finally reached the security room. Terry tossed Angela the keys while he and Kenneth restrained the two guards, nodding to the small holding cell.

“It’s the big silver key.”

“Terry, what are you doin' man? You're gonna' get us killed!” Bart said, trying to look at the younger man.

“Shut up,” Terry snapped, digging his gun into Bart’s shoulder.

Once Angela opened the cell door, Bart was pushed inside, Kenneth more aggressive when he threw CJ in roughly.

“Fucking watch it!” he snapped, but before he could do anything, the cell door was slammed in his face, Angela locking it. “You’re fucking stupid, y’know that!”

"For what, doing the right thing?” Angela questioned, shoving the gun back in her waistband.

“Terry, the guns?” Kenneth asked.

Taking the keys from Angela, he unlocked one of the metal cabinets mounted on the wall. On the first shelf inside laid Andre's gun, and just above on the second shelf stood Kenneth's shotgun, along with his strap of extra shells. A small smiled appeared on the officer’s face when Terry passed him his shotgun, admiring it in his hands.

Looking over at the security cameras, Angela watched the truck still drive in circles, a crowd of those things chasing it. “We need to get them in, quick.”

“You go back up,” Kenneth ordered, handing her Andre’s gun, “we’ll catch up.”

Before leaving the security room, Angela glanced at the men in the cell. Bart was still pleading with Terry, but CJ's eyes were trained on her, his hard gaze following her every movement. A small shiver ran up Angela's spine before she exited the room, feeling the cold stare still on her. Returning to the upper floor, she found the group congregated by the roof stairwell. A grin appeared on Andre’s face when she reunited him with his gun.

“Now, that's what I'm talking about,” he said, holding it up before polishing it with his shirt.

“So, what's the plan?” Angela asked Michael.

“The employee’s door round back has a delivery bay; it’s clear from those things, for now,” Michael explained. “We need to get the truck’s attention and get them to that door so we can get them in safely.”

Ana suddenly appeared by Michael's side, showing him a large whiteboard sign, the words ‘OVER HERE’ boldly written on it.

“Perfect,” he smiled at her. “Andre and I will go down to the door and keep those things away from them. Ana and Luda will attract their attention with the sign, and Angela we’ll need eyes from above, so shoot any of those things that get too close.”

“Wait, what?” she questioned, pulling the gun out. “I can't shoot this thing!”

“You ever shot a gun before?” Michael asked.

“I mean, a couple of times at a range, but-” she hesitated, looking at the lethal weapon in her hand. “I’ve never shot…”

Angela wanted to say ‘people’, but were these things considered human, she thought. Even so, she had never shot a moving target before; her experience only included shooting the paper targets at a firing range.

“Luda and I have no experience, so you’re the next best thing,” Ana said, the rest of the group looking at Angela.

“Shit,” she whispered, scrunching her eyes closed as she tried to refresh her memory with little training she had at the range. “Shit, okay. I’ll watch out from the roof.”

Andre suddenly grasped her gun, flicking a switch on the side. “You wouldn’t be shootin’ anything with that on.”

Taking the gun back, it was then that Angela realised she hadn’t taken the safety off the gun. That meant when she had pointed the gun at CJ, the safety would have been on, rendering it useless. She quickly wondered if CJ had known the safety was on as she ran up to the rooftop with the two women, Michael and Andre taking the elevator down.

“Luda, Angela, you two go to the back where the loading bay is,” Ana said as they stepped outside, “I’ll get their attention and lead them round there.”

While Ana attracted the truck's attention, Luda stood by the ladder with the sign, Angela knelt down with an accurate view of the door and loading gate. For now, the area was clear of the infected, but Angela remained on edge, poised on one knee while she held her gun ready. Ana suddenly came running up, stopping next to Luda, frantically pointing to the sign. From around the corner, the truck came into view, a crowd of the infected following it.

“What’s it doing?” Angela shouted when the truck suddenly halted.

Her question was answered when it quickly turned around, beginning to reverse to the loading bay. It picked up speed, flattening the metal railings and hitting an unlucky infected that stood in its way. It backed up all the way till it hit the shutters with a thundering crash. The building underneath Angela shook slightly, causing to place her hands out to steady herself. She watched intently as a man suddenly appeared out the window, swiftly climbing out on the top of the cab, then helping an older woman out as well.

“You okay?” Ana shouted down.

The elder woman looked up and bobbed her head. “Yes, but there's more people inside!”

Angela's eyebrows quirked, wondering how many they were expecting, but a sudden slam of a door opening caught her attention. Angela quickly peeked over the edge to see Michael and Andre running out to check the truck. An infected jumped in front of them, Michael quickly shooting it dead.

“I don't see anybody!” Andre yelled, looking into the cab.

“Get back inside, they're fine!” Ana shouted down to them.

The man and woman looked down at the two of them, gesturing for them to go. “Get back inside, there's six more people inside the truck!”

Luda suddenly screamed in terror. “Andre, look!”

An infected ran behind him, getting ready to bite him. With quick reflexes, Andre restrained it and shot it in the head, brain matter spewing everywhere. Angela panicked, aiming her gun when more infected ran towards them. She was about to pull the trigger, but her hands trembled uncontrollably.

“Shoot, Angela!” Ana shouted.

From below, Angela could hear more gunshots, Andre shouting he was out of ammo. Jerking her head, Angela placed her finger on the trigger and aimed for one that targeted Michael. Her hands stilled, and she quickly pulled the trigger, the force jerking her hands back. The noise of the gun caused her ears to ring painfully, but she ignored it as she watched the bullet penetrated the target's knee.

“Fuck!” she hissed, as she didn't kill it.

However, the thing cried out and fell to the floor, its knee buckling under it. Angela quickly took the opportunity to shoot it again, this time striking it in the head. With adrenaline coursing through her body, she then shot two more, only hitting them in the neck and chest, but stopping them from attacking Andre and Michael.

They finally made it back to the door, but one of those things had jammed its arm into the doorway. Angela aimed at its head and pulled the trigger, the gun jerking her back once again. The bullet zipped through the air and skimmed the head of the monster, causing it to fall back, Andre and Michael managing to shut the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Angela sighed, collapsing to the floor.

She flung her hands over her head, ears ringing loudly, feeling the blood rushing through her veins. Her breath was quivering, heart pounding hard in her chest. Ana ran to her aid, along with Luda and the two survivors.

“Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside Angela.

“I think so,” she wheezed, looking up into the sky, “besides my ears ringing and feeling like I’m gonna’ have a heart attack.”

“Did they get in okay?” the elder woman asked.

“Yeah, they got in,” Angela said, letting Ana hoist her to her feet. “We better get downstairs, need to get the rest of your friends in.”

Ana nodded, taking hold of the man as he limped badly. “Angela, I think Luda and I should take these two back to Terry and Kenneth, get a treatment area set up in Metropolis. You go and help Michael and Andre with the rest.”

“On it,” Angela agreed, running ahead to the stairwell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.
> 
> Thanks for the reviews, hope you're all enjoying!

Running down the stair well, Angela skipped waiting for the elevator on the upper floor, taking the quicker route straight down the escalators to the lower floor of the mall. Rounding the corner to the employee’s door, she could hear Michael and Andre and the noise of a gun reloading.

“That was some crazy bullshit,” Andre said, cocking his gun.

“You could say that again,” Angela panted, coming into view.

“Those two get up okay?” Michael asked, pushing one last heavy box in front of the door, making sure all three bolts were locked tight.

“Yeah, Ana and Luda were taking them downstairs to meet up with Terry and Kenneth; the guy has a bad ankle, so Ana’s setting up a medical area in Metropolis. We’ll take anyone that’s hurt there,” she explained.

Michael nodded, looking at the loading gate behind him. “We gotta’ get that gate open.”

Andre directed his gun behind Michael to a set of buttons on the wall. “Push the button.”

Standing next to the heavy gate, Michael hovered his finger over the green button, aiming his gun ready. Angela assumed her place next to Andre, both standing against the wall with their guns aimed at the entrance, ready to shoot anything that might squeeze through the gap.

“You ready?” Michael asked, looking at the two.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Andre mumbled, while Angela nodded.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the top button and quickly ran to Angela's side, his gun still aiming directly ahead. The gate groaned as it began to lift, but suddenly stopped with a jerk; it stuck in place as it desperately tried lifting itself. Angela sighed, lowering her gun.

“C’mon, man,” Andre said, looking between the gate and Michael. “What did you do?”

“Try pushing it again,” Angela suggested.

Lowering his gun as well, Michael stepped over to the button panel, repeatedly pressing the button, though the gate stayed shut.

“Did you break it?” Andre asked, slowly becoming frustrated. “Huh?”

“It's jammed!” Michael exclaimed, giving up as he returned to the front of the gate.

“What now?” she asked.

He looked at Andre, pointing to the gate. “Okay, you open the gate, and we’ll cover you.”

A frown appeared on Andre's face as he turned to Michael, raising his brow. “What!” he exclaimed. “This is your stupid ass plan! You open the gate and we’ll cover you.”

Michael's shoulders slumped inwards, his eyebrows furrowing. Angela could see his hesitation and she grunted in frustration, pushing past the two of them.

“I’ll open the damn gate and you both cover me,” she muttered.

Setting her gun safely in the front of her jeans, an easy place she could retrieve it, she knelt and placed her hands on the rubber grips. Pushing up, Angela gritted her teeth, using all her force but the gate still not moving. She tried pushing even harder, the gate moving slowly, but stopping an inch later.

“A little help?”

Both men looked at each other, Andre flicking his gun towards the gate. Michael sighed, holstering his gun and knelt next to Angela. The two of them began pushing again, the gate only creaking as it stayed in place.

“Um...” Michael trailed off, the two of them turning around to face Andre, who shook his head.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, also holstered his gun and kneeling next to Michael.

“Okay, on three,” Michael instructed, “one, two, three!”

The three of them groaned when they pushed, the gate finally moving, sliding up to the top. When it opened completely, Angela came face-to-face with an infected, screeching loudly as it swiped its bloody hands at her.

“Shit!” she screamed and leapt away, scrambling backwards on her hands.

“Whoa!” Andre shouted, he and Michael stumbled away as well, pulling their guns out.

The trio backed against the wall, the thing crawling after them. Pulling itself away from the gate, they realised its body ended at its waist, just leaving its upper body. When the truck had backed up into the gate, it must have trapped the lone infected, slicing it in half. Using its hands, the infected pulled its torso along the floor, trailing blood and intestines after it.

Angela's breath caught in her throat and she felt nauseous, her eyes not believing what she was witnessing. “Holy fuck.”

“Now that's... just crazy,” Andre said, staring as the thing snarled at them.

The three of them shared a look of disbelief. They observed it haul its upper body along as quick as it could, it’s determined will of wanting to bite them motivating it, before Michael and Andre both shot it dead.

“That's something out of a horror movie,” Angela said, watching Michael kick it away from the gate.

“Let's just get these people and get the fuck out of here,” Andre said, unlocking the truck door.

Andre stepped away when the large sliding door began moving, the three of them lining up and raising their guns again. A bloodied hand suddenly appeared along with a pair of legs; a man crawled from under the door, landing on the floor with a thud. Looking up to three guns pointing at him, he raised his hands in the air.

“Don't shoot!” he yelled, pushing his back against the truck door.

Angela released a breath she had been holding, the three of them lowering their weapons, watching the man slowly stand up.

“Give me a hand with this?” the stranger asked, trying to push the truck door up. “We've got someone hurt in here.”

Cautiously, Michael and Andre stepped forward to help him, all of them forcing the door up. Angela stayed in her place, her gun firm in her hands, just in case. Once the door was finally open, Andre and Michael backed away to gain a more thorough look at everyone inside.

The man stepped back into the truck, a young ginger-haired girl rushing to his side and hugging him. Angela counted the group - six in total. Besides the man and girl, there was another tall and lean man dressed in an all-black suit, leaning tiredly on the frame of the truck. A golden-haired woman stood on the opposite side of the truck, an elder man standing just behind her. Angela noticed the elder man was propping up a wheelbarrow with a heavily overweight and very sickly-looking woman lying in it.

“Is this everyone?” she asked, taking her eyes away from the woman in the wheelbarrow.

“Pretty much, yeah,” the man from before replied, the girl helped him stand.

Angela looked towards Michael and Andre, the three of them nodding. Michael stepped forward, holding his hand out to the blonde woman, who graciously took it.

“Well, let's get you all inside,” he said, aiding her out the truck.

After getting the new survivors safely out the truck, Michael and Andre shut the gate, making sure it was locked and secure. Michael led the group through the mall, Angela helping Frank, the man who had opened the truck door, walk, while Andre pushed the woman in the wheelbarrow. While they walked, Angela noticed the woman had a large bite wound on her arm, seemingly the cause of her pain. She stared at it cautiously for the rest of the journey, until they met up with the rest of the group.

“Thank God,” Monica, the blonde woman of the new group, moaned when they entered the heart of the mall, “I couldn't stay in that fucking truck anymore.”

Ana rushed over to the group once she spotted them. “Alright, anybody who is injured, let's get you into Metropolis right away. I'll come and take a look at you.”

“I guess that means me,” Frank weekly chuckled.

“Do you need help, or can you make it?” Angela asked.

“No, I'm good,” Frank said, slipping his arm from her shoulders and his daughter, Nicole, helping him towards Metropolis. “Nicole and I will wait in there.”

Smiling at the two, Angela heading straight to Ana, who was tending to the ill woman in the wheelbarrow. Glenn, the elder man who had helped the sick woman in the truck, was now wheeling her into Metropolis.

“Ana,” Angela whispered, “she has a nasty bite on her arm from one of those things; that needs looking at asap.”

Ana looked at the wound, biting her lip lightly. “I'll see what I can do in there. I already have Tucker, the guy in the cab, with an injured leg.”

“Frank's in there too, the one with his daughter,” Angela added.

“What's wrong with him?” Ana asked, both stopping just outside the doors of Metropolis.

Before she could answer, Angela frowned, trying to recall Frank’s injury. “I don't know actually, but he's in pretty bad shape.”

Ana nodded, going inside while Angela decided to join Michael, who was giving out bottles of water to the new survivors. “The rest of you, we have plenty of food and water. Help should be along soon.”

The man with the black suit, who had introduced himself as Steve, laughed aloud, looking up at Michael from a bench. “Help? Did you hear that from the same jackass who told us to go to St. Verbena?”

“The church downtown?” Michael questioned, offering Angela a bottle of water.

“Yeah, it's the first place I went. Some dipshit on the radio said it was safe there. He was wrong,” he chuckled, taking a sip of water.

Michael turned to the elder woman, who to Angela’s surprise, was the one who had been operating the truck. “Is that where you picked them up?”

“Well, I get this call on the CV from that guy, Glen, saying all these folks are in the chapel,” she explained, opening her bottle of water.

“He's a priest?” Michael asked.

“No, he plays the organ. I was in the neighbourhood, so I picked them up.”

Angela smiled at the woman’s modest shrug, acting as if it was an act everyone would do. “That was a hell of a brave thing to do, um...”

“Norma,” the woman smiled, “the name's Norma.”

Michael stared at Norma in amazement. “Well done.”

From beside them, Steve cleared his throat. “When you fellas are done blowing each other, maybe Davy Crockett can tell us the deal here.”

Angela rolled her eyes at him for ruining the tender moment, stalking away towards Hallowed Grounds to brew herself a well-deserved coffee. Minutes later, however, when she was pouring the steaming liquid into a cup, a commotion between Michael and Kenneth caught her attention.

“Truck's not going to make it to Fort Pastor.”

“What?” she whispered to herself, discarding her half-made coffee and approaching the two.

Shotgun in hand, Kenneth secured a black bag slung over his shoulder, Michael trying to stop him as he began walking in the direction of the back entrance.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“I'm going to rescue my brother,” Kenneth said, not looking back at her.

“With the truck?” she asked, shaking her head, “Kenneth, those things are swarming the truck out there, it’d be a suicide mission.”

“No, forget the truck,” Steve suddenly said, “that place is fucked, man; blood bath city.”

Everyone stopped, including Kenneth, who spun on his heel and stared intently at Steve. “How do you know?” 

“We just came from there,” Norma answered, remorse hinted in her tone.

Kenneth looked at her, lowering his bag as he stepped closer to her. “Is everyone there dead?”

“Err, dead-ish,” Steve commented.

“Is everyone there dead?” Kenneth repeated slowly to him, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.

“Yeah, in the sense that they all, sort of, fell down and then-”

Kenneth snatched his bag from the ground and began to march away. “I'm going to see for myself.”

“You're not gonna' make it,” Michael stated, throwing his arms in the air.

“-got up, and-”

“I'll get as far as I can,” Kenneth said, not even stopping to think over his plan safely.

“On foot?” Michael shouted.

“-started eating each other,” Steve finally finished, taking a sip of his water.

“I’ll take my chances,” Kenneth yelled back.

Angela watched Michael follow Kenneth, the two arguing back and forth at each other. Quickly apologising to Norma and Steve, she left the two new members of the group to go to Metropolis, not bearing the arguing anymore. Walking into the store, she spotted Terry talking to Frank and Nicole, while Ana treated the woman who was in the wheelbarrow, though now she was lying on a bed. The guy that was in the cab with Norma was sat in a chair, his injured foot resting on a stool with a bag of ice over it.

“Do you need anything?” Angela asked him.

“No, I’m fine,” he smiled, scratching his light stubble, “just glad to be safe inside.”

“Okay, if you need anything, just ask. I’m Angela,” she said, returning the smile.

“Tucker,” he said, tilting his hat.

Moving over next to Terry, who was trying to make conversation with Nicole, she greeted Frank, “how you hanging in?”

“Just resting up,” he said weakly, “waiting for my hand to be wrapped up, lucky those things didn’t do more damage.”

Revealing a nasty bite wound on his hand, Angela frowned as she looked at it, then glancing over Frank’s demeanour; he was visibly weak, so much so that Angela and his daughter had to assist him. Sweat coated his face, dark circles forming under his eyes, his breathing heavy. The symptoms reminded Angela of Cathy, how she discovered her moments before she turned into one of those things. 

“Everything okay?” Frank asked, worried as Angela continued staring intently at him.

“Yeah, I...” she hesitated, looking at his hand again. “That looks nasty, you need that checking out.”

Leaving Frank and his daughter slightly confused, she marched over to Ana’s side, who wiped the sick woman’s face with a damp flannel.

“Ana, we need to quarantine Frank and her,” Angela whispered, gesturing to the woman on the bed.

Ana’s head turned to Angela, a frown on her face. “What?”

“They’ve been bitten,” Angela stated, pointing to the bite mark on the woman’s arm, “it’s how it spreads.”

Terry suddenly appeared beside the woman, voice low as he nudged Angela. “Hey, you kinda’ freaked Frank out back there.”

“What did you say to him?” Ana hissed.

“Nothing!” Angela whispered, huddling Ana and Terry closer. “When he showed me his bite mark, I realised he’s showing the same symptoms my friend had before she turned into one of those things; weakness, sweating, sunken eyes, pale skin. She was bitten too.

“I also got a call from my brother yesterday from Washington – those things are there too, just like here. He told me that this infection, disease, whatever these things have, it spreads through the bites. When you get bitten, you turn into one of them. I wasn’t sure at first, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense; how else has this spread so fast?” Angela explained.

Terry stared at Angela, confusion across his face as he tried processing the information. Ana remained quiet, looking down at the woman in the bed.

“I’ve never seen an infection this progressed that doesn’t display a fever,” she said, pointing to the woman, “but when I spoke to that guy, Glen, he said she only got bitten early this morning. It’s impossible for a wound less than twenty-four hours old to be this far progressed.”

“And Frank?” Angela asked.

“I don’t know when he got bit, but the wound’s still fresh and he’s displaying similar symptoms,” Ana said.

“We need to quarantine-”

Before Angela could finish her sentence, the woman on the bed began to gasp for breath, lips turning blue and her body seizing. Ana pushed Terry out the way, him and Angela watching her try helping the woman. Back suddenly arching off the bed, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she took one last wheezing breath before she collapsed, head lolled back at an awkward angle.

“Is she…” Terry asked, noticing the woman wasn’t breathing.

Using two fingers, Ana checked the woman’s wrist and then neck, detecting no pulse. Hand over mouth, Angela turned away while Ana, face sullen, began to pull the bedsheet slowly over the woman’s face. Angela bowed her head, nudging Terry beside her, who then took his hat off, staring at the lifeless body on the bed.

“Anyone know her name?” Ana asked, turning to the others in the room.

Frank and Tucker looked at each other questionably, while Nicole shook her head quietly. They all looked at Glenn, who Angela thought he knew her since he had helped her the most, but he shrugged his shoulders.

“Died without a name,” Tucker sighed, taking his hat off, “damn.”

Leaving the bedside, Ana began telling the group to move into the next room away from the body. Angela sighed deeply, mulling over her theory; if this infection was spreading through the bites, how come it killed her instead of turning her? Turning back to the bed, Angela went to pull the bedsheet back to look at the wound, but froze when the woman, who only a moment ago had been pronounced dead, sat up straight. Sheer terror ran through Angela’s body as the bedsheet fell on the bed, revealing the woman’s white glossy eyes.

The group behind her also watched in silent horror, Tucker slowly moving from his chair while Angela backed away from the bed, bumping into Terry, who stumbled away in a panic when he realised what was happening.

“Holy shit!”

Attracted by the sudden shout, the woman whipped her head to the side, white eyes landing on Angela; a scream ripped from her throat, lunging off the bed towards Angela.

“Christ!” she yelled, barely dodging the attack.

Nearly slipping on the wood floor, Angela quickly ran into the adjacent room, the newly infected woman chasing her, insanely fast considering her weight and condition. Angela jumped over a chair, trying to establish distance between her and the infected woman, who knocked it down with ease.

Ana suddenly entered the room, picking up a fire-place poker. “Angela!”

Running a half-circle across the room, Angela now ran towards Ana, who raised the sharp metal poker ready. With the woman snapping at her heels, Angela swiftly dropped to her knees, sliding past Ana, who then stabbed the poker in the woman’s head with a forceful cry. A loud sickening crunch echoed through the room, followed by a heavy thud as the body dropped to the floor.

“Holy shit!” Ana gasped, breathing erratic as she put her hands on her knees. “Oh, shit.”

“Jesus...” Angela panted, watching as a pool of thick blood formed around the woman's head.

Terry meekly peeked his head from the next room, seeing the body on the floor while Ana helped Angela to her feet. “You two okay?”

“Fine and dandy,” Angela replied shakily, running her fingers stressfully through her hair.

 

After wrapping the body in plastic sheets, Andre, Michael, Terry, and Kenneth, who had decided to stay at the mall, carried the body up to the rooftop to dispose of it, while a still slightly dazed Angela mopped up the blood. Ana, who had recovered from the incident, continued to treat Tucker and Frank's injuries. However, the two women discussed Angela’s theory, which now seemed believable, and when everyone returned, Ana called the original group to Hollowed Grounds for a meeting.

“So, what's this 'meeting' about?” Andre asked, making a cup of coffee, “I’ve left Luda in the baby store.”

Ana glanced at Angela, before taking a deep, worrying breath. “We think we know what's causing all this.”

Andre arched a questioning brow, Michael and Kenneth frowning at the blonde.

“How?” Michael asked.

“Think it's the bites. Frank said she was walking on her own five hours ago after being bitten,” she replied, “the bites killed her, the bites brought her back.”

“How do you know?” Andre interrupted, seeming suddenly agitated.

“I watched it happen, I felt her pulse; she was gone,” Ana explained, voice raising before she swallowed thickly. “Then, yesterday, I saw the same thing happen.”

“I've seen it as well,” Angela added, thinking back to yesterday morning. “My friend was bitten. Hours later, she’s sick, she collapses, next thing I know she tried to rip my throat out. All of those things out there have some sort of bite or wound; that’s how this infection is spreading like wildfire.”

“Exactly,” Ana stated, “when I checked her wound, the infection looked like it had set in days ago, even though it was a fresh bite. Frank’s is the same; I think that's why it spreads so fast.”

“If you die from your wounds, the bite turns you instantly. If you don’t, the bite kills you off eventually, then you turn,” Angela explained.

The group fell silent, Michael looking to Ana. "Who else in the group was bitten?”

“Well, Frank, for sure.”

“What about the one with the foot?” Michael asked.

Ana sipped her coffee, shaking her head. “Tucker? He says no, he fell.”

Silently, Andre slipped away from the group, walking off on his own back towards the baby store. Angela noticed this from the corner of her eyes, staring after him when she realised he left his coffee untouched. Thinking maybe he wanted to re-join with Luda, she returned to the conversation.

“So, it's Frank, tall guy,” Michael said to Ana, “right?”

“Yeah, we'll have to quarantine him right away.”

“Where exactly do we do that?” Kenneth asked, speaking for the first time.

Ana shrugged her shoulders. “I don't know, there has to be some place to keep him in here.”

“Then what?” Michael asked.

“I don't know. But...” Ana trailed off, turning to Angela, “you suggested quarantining them before, where do you think?”

Angela nodded her head, but she didn’t meet Ana’s eyes; by the tone of Kenneth and Michael's voices, Angela knew what they were suggesting at, and she knew they were right. Terry looked down at his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets, knowing where this conversation was going.

“It's too dangerous to keep him here,” Michael stated.

Mouth falling agape, Ana slowly looked around the group, eyes landing on Kenneth, who glanced at her while still cleaning his gun. She turned back to Michael, brows knitted together. “I'm sorry, are we talking about killing him?”

“You'd rather wait for him to die and then he kills us?” Michael questioned bluntly.

“Y-yes – no – you can't kill him!” she snapped, slamming her hands on the counter. “He's got a daughter!”

Michael shook his head, not meeting her gaze. “I'm sorry, I don't think there's any other choice.” Grabbing his gun, Michael stood from his stool, beginning to walk towards Metropolis. Ana stared after him, hands trembling.

“He's right,” Kenneth mumbled.

Terry casted his eyes down to the floor, staying silent. Ana turned to Angela, hoping she would back her up, but Angela stared back solemnly, eyes wet.

“Sorry, but it's the only way, Ana,” she whispered, arms curling around herself. “We can't take the risk of putting more lives in danger. You’ve seen first-hand what those things are capable of.”

Angela’s stomach twisted when Ana’s gaze switched from hopeful to accusing. Finding no support from them, the nurse stood abruptly from her chair, running after Michael. Angela quickly followed her, trying to calm her down. “Wait, Ana.”

“Michael, no!” Ana yelled, ignoring Angela. “What if I'm wrong?"

“You've seen it happen before.”

Uttering an exasperated sigh, Ana ran ahead of him straight to Metropolis. Angela decided to catch up her up, hoping she could comfort her. However, when she entered the store, she discovered Ana standing in front of Frank and Nicole, arms crossed over her chest.

“Michael's coming to shoot you.”

“Ana!” Angela hissed, grabbing the blonde by the shoulder.

Both Frank and Nicole's smiling faces dropped when Ana interrupted their conversation, Nicole’s eyes widening while Frank frowned. “What?”

“You're infected,” she said, pointing to his wound, “you're going to become one of them.”

Michael entered the store, coming to stand next to Ana, his gun partially hidden behind his back. His face was vacant as Frank nervously chuckled, clutching his daughter’s hand.

“Is this true?” he asked, “are you here to kill me?”

“You were bitten,” Michael stated sadly, “it's only a matter of time.”

With a panicked expression, Nicole suddenly jumped into her father’s lap, wrapping her arms around him defensively, shielding him from Michael. “No. No. No! Leave my dad alone,” she began crying, her voice muffled, nuzzling her face into his neck. “Go away! You can't do this.”

Frank consoled her, stroking her ginger hair. “You have to understand that she's lost everyone. Her mother, her two brothers... I'm all she's got.”

Hearing Frank’s tragic story, Ana turned to Michael, hands on her hips, giving him an angered look. “Well, Michael, what are you waiting for? Go ahead, kill him,” she said, then pointing a finger at Tucker. “Hey, kill Tucker, too.”

Still nursing his injured leg quietly in the corner, Tucker began to panic, trying to stand up from the chair. “Wait a minute, I was never bit!” he exclaimed, scared they were going to turn on him.

“No, no,” Angela sighed, trying to alleviate the situation, motioning for Tucker to stay seated, “we know that, Tucker.”

“We can't be sure,” Ana interrupted, turning back to Michael, “do it, Michael.”

“Ana, that's enough!” Angela snapped, taking a step closer to her.

Frank, who had soothed his daughter, looked up at the group desperately. “Are you sure it's the bite?”

Ana was silent before shaking her head. “No.”

“She's sure,” Michael stated, “I'm sorry.”

A pained sob left Nicole again, which made Angela flinch. She offered Frank a sympathetic look, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'm so sorry.”

A faint smile graced Frank's lips when he looked at Angela, leaning down to place a kiss on Nicole's head.

“We'll give you some time,” Michael said, gathering the group to leave.

When they left the distraught father and daughter alone, they re-grouped back at Hallowed Grounds, though Ana was silent the whole time. The others began a discussion, figuring out a place they could quarantine Frank, so when he did ultimately turn, someone could put him down straight away.

“What about the electronics store? It’s small enough to quarantine him, and it also has shutters we could use, just in case,” Michael suggested to the group.

“That'll work,” Kenneth said, while Angela nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Michael sighed, “we've got our quarantine zone. Now, we just need someone to...”

Even though he didn’t conclude his sentence, everyone knew what he indicated. A hard silence fell over the group, no one volunteering to execute the dreaded deed. Terry shook his head, suddenly pushing himself away from the counter.

“I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I can't think about that,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I'll go and check on CJ and Bart.”

Understanding how Terry felt, even though no one wanted to do this, she knew not to be angry with him; everyone was stuck in the same situation, but Terry was only young, barely an adult, so this was probably impacting him harder and very overwhelming for him.

Terry quickly leaving, Michael rubbed his temples stressfully. “Someone needs to do it.”

Another moment of silence followed, before the squeaking of a chair shattered it and Kenneth stood up, pumping his shotgun. “I'll do it.”

“Are you sure?” Angela questioned, giving him a wary look.

“Just let him do it,” Ana scoffed, hastily pushing her chair and walking off.

Angela noticed Michael staring off after her and she sighed, patting his back. “She just needs time to grasp the reality of the situation.”

Giving a slight nod, Michael stood up straight, holstering his gun. “Yeah, I know.”

“We doing this?” Kenneth asked him.

“I guess so.”

Angela felt her stomach drop when she thought of Frank and Nicole. She couldn't bear the thought of what they were going through. After watching Michael and Kenneth enter Metropolis, Angela made her way to the security room, forcing herself not to cry along the way. Just outside the door, she could already hear the hassles from Bart.

“C'mon, Terry, let us out,” Bart whined, slumped against the railings.

Hearing Angela enter the room, Terry turned around to greet her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Angela copied back, letting herself fall on one of the couches with a tired sigh.

Terry awkwardly scratched his head as he sat next to her, swallowing the hard lump that had formed in the back of his throat. “So, who's doing, you know, the...” he stuttered, not daring to say the words.

“Kenneth,” she answered, looking down at her hands.

“Oh,” Terry nodded, looking away towards the monitors, “how's his daughter?”

“Nicole?” Angela said, raising her head, “not too good, but then again, would you be if you knew your dad was about to get shot?”

Finishing her sentence, she found Terry wasn’t even looking at her, but instead, stared intently at the security monitors, not taking his eyes off one in particular. Angela realised the one he was staring at showed the young girl curled up in a ball, sobbing her heart out in a clothing store. A pained expression crossed Terry’s face when the girl let out a wail, banging her fists on the floor; Angela was certain she could vaguely hear her in the distance.

“Go to her.”

“What?” Terry said, withdrawing his eyes from the screen, “and do what?”

Angela shook her head at the naive boy. “That girl has lost her entire family today, Terry. She needs a friend right now, someone to comfort her. I think she’d rather have you, someone closer to her age she can relate to.”

Terry bit his lip awkwardly. “Do you think I can do that?”

“Well, it's either that or sit here and stare at her through the monitors,” she replied, leaning back into the couch, tutting when he glanced at the cell. “Don’t worry about them, I’ll take watch.”

“You sure?” Terry asked.

“Terry, they're stuck in that cell, I'm sure they can't do much behind them bars,” Angela chuckled, receiving a huff from CJ and she patted her gun. “Anyway, I have this.”

Looking between the monitor and Angela, he gave her a small smile before standing from the couch, leaving the room. Angela sighed, closing her eyes for a second, relaxing her stressed body into the worn leather couch.

“Aw, what an adorable fucking love story.”

Ignoring CJ’s sarcastic comment, she swung her legs on the couch, her back facing the cell as she leant against the armrest. While Bart had slumped on the floor in the cell, CJ pulled a chair close to the cell door, clucking his tongue. 

“I see McFatty almost got you,” he said, pointing to the monitors. “I told you, you were goin’ to let the wrong ones in.”

“Shut up, CJ,” she muttered.

CJ chuckled behind her, “y'know, I thought you were quite smart, but look what you've done. You let two of those things in; one nearly got you, now waitin’ to shoot the other one. How do you know anyone else isn't sick?”

Patience running thin, Angela shot a glare to the man over her shoulder. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

CJ suddenly laughed, though it was more of a bark, a low whistle following from his mouth. “Oh, pretty thing like you shouldn't be talking like that," he smirked, giving Angela a wink, "there’s lots of other better ways you can use that mouth.”

From the corner of the cell, Bart started to laugh like an immature teenager, which was the final straw for Angela. Cheeks flushed from CJ's comment, they soon reddened with anger and Angela marched over to the former guards. The laughter abruptly ended, CJ flinching away when Angela’s foot collided with the cell door.

“Shut up!” Angela screamed, her frustration boiling over, repeatedly kicking the door, the metal mesh rattling violently. “Just shut the fuck up!”

Both men stared with shocked eyes, watching the woman kick and scream at them, seething anger dripping from her body. CJ had repeatedly pissed her off over the twenty-four hours she had been in the mall, which fuelled her frustration, but when she struck the door again, she started to think about the trauma she had experienced as well. Grief for her brother and best friend, sadness since she witnessed people dying around her, confusion because she didn’t know why this was happening; everything she had suppressed was now pouring out of her.

A monstrous scream sounded in the distance, quickly followed by a gunshot echoing throughout the mall.

Angela stilled, the hairs on the back of her neck standing and a cold shiver ran up her spine. Suddenly losing all her adrenalin, she slumped against the cell door, letting her body slide down against the mesh until she sat on the floor. All her anger had faded away now as she hugged her legs, her foot now throbbing. On the other side of the door, CJ appeared next to her, also sat on the floor and leaning against the mesh.

They both sat in silence for a moment, before he cleared his throat. “Y'know, you can fuck your foot up by doing that.”

Angela gave a breathless chuckle, though her sorrowful expression didn't flinch. “You don't say?”

“You never answered my question, by the way.”

Confused, Angela thought for a moment before she tilted her head at CJ. “What question?”

He pointed to the gun peeking out from her shirt. “Where did you get that gun?”

Pulling it out from her jeans, Angela suppressed a laugh, though a small smile appeared on her lips. “When you forced me to go on ‘clean up duty’ with you, I found it by the fountain. I guessed your friend, Ben, must have dropped it.”

“How the fuck didn’t I see it?” CJ questioned himself, frowning.

Angela smirked. “I just picked it up when none of you were looking.”

“I knew you were up to no good by that fountain,” he muttered, pulling his hat off to scratch his head. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“I wouldn't say stupid,” Angela said, “maybe careless.”

“Yeah, well, being careless can put lives at risk,” he said.

“I suppose it can.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Beside the constant moaning and pounding on the walls from the undead outside, it was quiet in the mall. Barely past seven-thirty in the early morning, most of the group were still sound asleep; the previous day’s events were hard and exhausting on everyone. Despite the early time, Angela sat at Hallowed Grounds, sipping on a large hot coffee with cream. She basked in the silence, fingertips thrumming against the marble countertop.

About an hour ago, she had woken up in a cold sweat, chest heaving with the nightmare of bloody hands and pale eyes still fresh in her mind. Everyone around her hadn’t disturbed and because she didn't want to close her eyes again, she snuck out of Metropolis and took solace at Hallowed Grounds. The timer for the lights didn't come on till eight, so Angela sat in dim light, early morning sun shining through the skylights.

Footsteps behind her brought Angela out of her daze, coming directly towards her. Michael shuffled to the coffee bar, yawning while he slipped behind the counter.

“Morning,” he said, grabbing a mug.

“Morning,” Angela replied, taking a sip of her drink. “You’re up early.”

“Could say the same for you,” he smiled, beginning to make himself a coffee.

Angela huffed, rubbing her eyes. “Had a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep; didn't want to spend my morning in bed staring at the ceiling.”

Michael hummed. “Anyone else up?”

“No, I think I was the first up,” she replied, “everyone was exhausted yesterday, especially the new group.”

“Yeah, it was a rough day,” Michael agreed, pouring the freshly made pot into his mug.

From around the corner, another figure appeared. Angela squinted, realising it was Terry, trailing his feet as he slumped over to Hallowed Grounds. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned loudly, passing by Angela.

“Good morning,” she smiled.

An incoherent moan escaped Terry’s mouth, half-lidded eyes glancing at Angela as he went behind the bar next to Michael.

“Not much of a morning person, are you, Terry?” Angela chuckled, watching him lazily make a hot drink.

“I will once I have a latte down my throat,” he replied, much to Angela and Michael's amusement.

“How's the girl?” Michael asked, leaning on the counter.

“Yeah, I didn't see her for the rest of the evening last night,” Angela added. “Is she coping okay?”

“Nicole?” Terry replied tiredly, “she's okay, I guess. She calmed down in the evening, but she's still shook up, still asleep now.”

“Poor girl,” Michael whispered.

Angela hummed in agreement, “yeah, at least she had you for some comfort.”

Terry's cheeks flushed slightly at the comment, but he shrugged his shoulders in return. 

“Well, tell her she can take as long as she wants if she wants to be alone, we're all here for her,” Michael said, sipping his coffee.

“She knows that,” Terry nodded, turning to Angela, “she actually wanted to thank you, for helping her dad when they first got here.”

Angela smiled. “Tell her it was no problem at all.”

A comfortable silence fell over the trio for a moment, all of them enjoying each other's company and the coffee. It wasn't until Angela finished the last of her drink that she turned to Michael, resting her head on her hands to lean on the counter.

“So, what's the plan for today?”

Frowning at the question, Michael stared at his drink, thinking for a few seconds until he shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know.”

“Anything we need to do?” Terry asked, adding extra whipped cream to his latte.

“Nothing,” Michael stated with a shake of his head, “the mall is secure; there's nothing to barricade or lock down. We cleared the bodies yesterday… we can do whatever, really.”

At Michael's last statement, the three looked up at each other, the realisation hitting them all at the same time.

“So, does that mean we have the free reign of the mall?” Angela asked.

“I guess.”

“And we can do whatever we want?” Terry asked.

“Sure.”

Looking around the mall, a grin appeared on Angela's face, leaning back in her chair and she kicking her legs up on the counter. “You know, it might not be so bad staying here after all.”

 

When morning passed and everyone had finally woken up, they began to explore the mall, venturing into any store that captured their eye; it was like Christmas had come early. With her newfound freedom, Angela raided the first bookstore she found, ignoring Steve’s sarcastic comment while he sauntered off to a luxury men’s store; books may be boring to most, but for Angela a bookstore was heaven. Being an English teacher for over ten years had reinforced her a love of books to the point now where she could read one or two a day.

With three books already piled in her arms, her fingertips skimmed over a line of books on a shelf, stopping to select another thickly packed one. Adding the book to her pile, Angela happened to glimpse between the shelves to spot a tall figure in the next aisle. Walking around the high shelves to meet the person, Angela was highly surprised when she saw Kenneth searching through the library.

“Wouldn’t take you as an avid reader,” Angela said, coming to the cop’s side.

“I've read a few books in my time,” Kenneth replied, picking out a book from the shelf.

Looking at the book curiously, Angela bent forward to read the title. “’The History of the Great War’?”

“Guess you're not a fan of history then?” Kenneth asked, noticing the frown on Angela's face, faint hint of amusement in his tone.

“What do you expect, I'm a literature teacher,” she chuckled, adjusting her grip on the books, “I prefer mostly fiction novels, but I have read the odd historic book.”

He tucked the book safely under his arm. “Figured I could read it while I'm talking to Andy.”

“It's a damn shame he's all alone over there, surrounded by those things,” Angela said, shaking her head, “at least he’s got company, even if it is writing on a board.”

Kenneth nodded his head in agreement. “He's an alright guy.”

Angela cleared her throat, lifting her eyes from the bookshelf up to the man. “I know it must have been tough for you, Kenneth, but I'm glad you didn't leave for Fort Pastor. It's good you stayed here.”

Kenneth paused, unclenching his jaw. “I realised I had bigger problems here, that the people here needed me more. It was already too late for me to save my brother.”

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Angela whispered. “I lost mine as well, managed to speak to him one last time two days ago.”

“I'm sorry about your brother, too.”

Angela smiled at him, Kenneth giving a curt nod before he walked away towards the exit, though stopped when Angela called his name. “Here,” she jogged after him, handing him a thick piece of card, “wouldn't want you to lose your place.”

Kenneth stared at the decorated bookmark in his hands, a rare smile appearing on his face. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Angela replied, watching him walk out of the store.

Carrying a total of five books, Angela retreated to Metropolis, where she had previously set up her own personal area. The night before, instead of sleeping on the single bed she had initially chose, Angela had moved to a double bed that was hidden in the very corner of the store. It came with a small bedside table and lamp and Angela had surrounded it with a Japanese folding screen, giving her privacy and the perfect space to read on her own.

Walking into the store, she found Michael, Andre, and Glenn stripping one of the king-sized beds, Tucker watching from a recliner chair.

“Hey, how’s the ankle?” she greeted him.

“Much better,” he grinned, relaxing in the chair, “just restin’ it before I check out one of the electronics stores, see the new fancy items they got in there.”

“Sounds exciting,” Angela said, before looking over at the other three. “What’s going on in here?”

“Luda’s ready to give birth soon, so I wanna’ make her as comfortable as possible – setting up a bedroom in the nursey. We just want some privacy,” Andre explained, hesitating for a moment, “for when she gives birth.”

“We’re moving this bed to the baby store,” Michael added.

“Need help?” Angela asked.

Andre side-eyed the woman briefly before nodding. “Sure.”

Dumping her books on her bed, Angela helped move the bed, carrying it with Andre and Michael while Glenn brought the pillows and bedding. Inside the nursery, Luda picked out baby clothes and toys, smiling excitedly when she saw the bed.

“Perfect for birthing!”

“Glad you think so,” Angela groaned, setting the bed down and Andre and Michael pushing it against the far back wall.

“You must be so excited,” Glen said softly, dropping the bedding on the floor. “Do you know what you’re having?”

Luda caressed her round stomach. “No, but I don’t care. Just want healthy baby.”

The elder man approached Luda, a wide smile on his face as he hovered his hands. “May I?”

Luda nodded, letting the man place his hands on her stomach. She turned to Angela, gesturing her to come closer, clasping her hand and placing it on her stomach next to Glen’s. Feeling little movement, Angela jumped when she felt a kick directly on her hand, Luda giggling at her reaction. Angela laughed along with Glen as the baby kicked excitedly at the sound of Luda’s voice.

“You might have a little football player in there,” he chuckled.

Andre suddenly appeared at Luda’s side, staring at Angela and Glen’s hands on her stomach. He gingerly pulled at her shoulders, coaxing her away from the two.

“C’mom, baby, you need to rest.”

Angela’s smile faltered as she watched Andre guide Luda to the bed, though Glen remained cheerful, thanking Luda and leaving the store. When Andre had his wife rested up on the bed, he turned to Michael and Angela.

“Thanks, we’re good now.”

There was bluntness behind his voice, signalling he wanted to be left alone. Michael nodded, beginning to exit the store, though Angela hesitated, looking at the couple. The pregnant woman smiled, waving at Angela, while Andre maintained his eyes fixated on Luda’s stomach. Angela backed away, turning to follow Michael out the nursery.

“Andre say anything to you?” Angela asked Michael when they exited the store, “seems a bit worried.”

Michael shook his head. “No, didn’t say anything. Guess he would be worried, though; his wife having to give birth in a mall instead of a hospital with no help.”

Angela thought on that answer for a moment, sighing, “yeah, you’re right. That would be terrifying.”

“Well, I’m gonna’ head over to the security office, see how those two are holding up,” Michael murmured, heading towards the office. 

Watching him leave, an annoyed grunt suddenly caught Angela’s attention, followed by a jingle of music. She looked around, looking at the video game store she had stopped outside of, the source of the noise coming from inside. Peaking her head inside, she saw Terry frantically playing a game, sitting on a bean bag in front of a television, controller in his hands. Angela laughed when Terry swore loudly, the words 'Game Over' flashing up in the screen.

“You do realise it's just a game, right?” Angela asked, walked up to him.

Not realising Angela had saw his minor outburst, Terry flushed pink, scratching the back of his head and smiling meekly. “Oh, hey, didn't realise you were there.”

“I think you were too engrossed with this thing,” Angela chuckled, pointing to the gaming console. “Where’s Nicole, thought she’d be with you?”

“She wanted to be on her own this morning, said she’ll probably join us for dinner later.”

Angela nodded, picking up the case of the game Terry was playing, read the title out loud, “'Zombie Slayer 3,’” she raised a brow, “well, that's very... appropriate.”

Terry let out a breathless chuckle, ejecting the game and replacing it with another game, one that was more familiar to Angela. “I guess so.”

Watched the start-up screen appear, she looked down and picked up a second controller, inspecting it closely. “Hey, can this game have two players?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Terry said, looking over his shoulder at her, “why, do you want to play?”

“Well, yeah, I'd like to- hey!” Angela exclaimed when Terry began to laugh. “What's so funny?”

He bit his lip, trying to stifle his laughter. “You just don't look like the type of person to play video games.”

“I’ll have you know I was the best video game player in the arcades when I was a kid,” Angela said smugly, hands on hips.

As teenagers, Angela and her brother always spent their allowance at the arcade, playing games after school for a couple of hours. Jon was good, but Angela was marginally better. They became so good that they used to play against other duos for money. Angela and Jon boasted a reputation for the best gaming team in their town.

“Oh, really?” Terry smirked, plugging in the second controller. “You're on.”

For an hour straight, she and Terry competed against each other. To Terry's surprise Angela played well, though seemed rusty. Angela, however, was enjoying herself, transported into her own little world and suddenly felt like she was back in the arcades with her brother.

After the intense video game session, Angela left Terry to his own entertainment and wandered the mall. She did some window shopping, deciding which stores she would explore the next day. When she reached the back of the mall, she heard someone called her name, turning around to find Ana walking over to her.

“Hey, what’s up,” Angela asked.

“Michael wants to see you in the security room,” Ana explained, running a hand through her hair, “he's made some sort of rotor for everyone and wants your advice on it.”

“Okay, I'll go and see him now,” Angela replied, but before she could walk away, Ana grasped her arm.

“Listen, Angela,” Ana paused, swallowing thickly before sighting. “I'm sorry about yesterday, with the Frank situation. I didn’t mean to act the way I did.”

A small smile grace Angela’s lips and she shook her head. “You don't need to apologise; it was a difficult situation. No one wants to do that to anyone, but we had no other choice – it was best to put him out of his misery, and for everyone’s safety.”

“I understand that now, it’s just hard, y’know,” Ana laughed, but it was breathless, a tone of uncertainty behind it. “You would have thought being a nurse, I would be used to death and all that stuff by now, but yesterday was different, nothing like I have ever had to deal with.”

Angela comforted the blonde, patting her hand. “You did the best you could, that's all that matters.”

“Thanks,” Ana smiled, momentarily squeezing Angela’s hand before backing away, “I'll see you later.”

Waving the blonde away, Angela released a deep breath and headed off to find Michael. Making her way to the office, Angela walked through the small corridor, knocking on the security room before peeping her head inside. Michael sat at the desk were all the monitors were, looking over a sheet of paper.

“Ana said you needed me?” she asked, closing the door behind her.

“Oh, yeah, I just wanted you to go over this, see what you think,” Michael answered, waving the piece of paper. Angela pulled up a chair next to Michael, only glancing at the two men in the cell. “It's a rotor for those two; we’ll need to take shifts each mealtime, as well as when they need the bathroom and showers.”

“We don't need fucking babysitting,” CJ, who sat at the small table in the cell, muttered.

“Well, maybe if you didn't act like children, we wouldn't need to do this,” Angela replied, looking at the sheet.

“Everyone will need to take a shift, but we’ll need two people armed when we need to take them out to the bathroom, just in case they try anything. So that means me, Kenneth, Terry, Andre, and you, if that okay with you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Angela nodded, handing him back the sheet.

“Good, I'm going to show this to the others, see what they think,” Michael smiled, standing up, “you coming?”

Angela shook her head, spinning her chair to face the row of monitors. “I’m actually gonna’ to check the cameras, see how things are outside. You go ahead.”

Looking over at the two in the cell, Michael left Angela to look over the monitors. The interior cameras flashed up, Angela checking every exit, seeing the barricades were still tightly secure. Providing her reassurance, she tried checking the outside ones, but didn’t know what button to press. Reluctantly, she looked over at CJ.

“How do I look at the outside cameras?”

The man shrugged his shoulders, replying bluntly, “don't know.”

Angela sighed, glaring at him. “Come on, CJ, just tell me.”

“No.”

“CJ.”

“No.”

“Fine,” Angela said, slamming her hand on the desk, “I'll go tell Michael you could do without dinner tonight.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, it's the green button,” he said when she moved from her chair.

Angela smirked, sitting back down in the chair. “See, a little cooperation never hurt anybody.”

“That was practically blackmail.”

Pressing the button, the monitors switched the cameras over to the outside. Glancing at each screen, Angela cringed, noting the amount of infected that had appeared overnight; there was a good few hundred now, crowding the parking lot. She watched them, clawing at the walls with their hands and shuffling aimlessly around each other. Beside that fact however, the outer premier of the mall was still intact.

“Everything looks good,” Angela whispered to herself, switching the cameras back.

“None of them got in?” CJ asked.

“No, everything's secure,” she replied.

“What a shame.”

Frowning, she spun on her chair to confront the sarcastic man. “Do you always have a shitty attitude?”

He grunted, crossing his arms across his chest. “Only when I'm caged up like a fucking animal.”

“You know damn well why you’re in there,” Angela sharply replied, “so quit your bitching.”

The guard glared at her. “I ain’t bitchin’.”

“Please,” Angela suddenly laughed, “my grandma had arthritis in both hands and a dislocated hip and even she bitched less than you.”

CJ opened his mouth, Angela expecting a snarky comment, only for him to close it again. From the couch in the cell, Bart, who was sprawled out on it, moaned loudly. “I'm hungry.”

“Didn't you have lunch like an hour ago?” Angela asked, pointing to the empty sandwich bags in the cell.

Bart shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, so?”

Rolling her eyes, Angela spotted two bags of chips that had been left on the coffee table. Debating on whether to give them to the two locked up men, Bart moaned again. Sighing to herself, she grabbed the two bags and walked over to the cell door, opening the small hatch on the door.

“Here,” she said, throwing the snacks in, “even though you don't really deserve them.”

Bart quickly snatched a bag, retreating to the couch. “Hell yeah.”

CJ picked the other bag up, giving a small nod to her. “Thanks.”

“Just don't tell anyone,” Angela said, taking a seat on the sofa.

“Secret's safe with me,” CJ said, opening the bag, while Bart agreed with a mouth full of chips.

“Do you even chew your food?” Angela’s face scrunched up in disgust, Bart grunting as crumbs spluttered from his mouth. “Never mind.” 

“So, you having fun trashing the place?” CJ asked Angela, who nestled into the couch.

“I wouldn't really consider it ‘trashing’, just trying to distract ourselves from the chaos outside and it's not like it matters. Especially when the country has gone to shit and everyone in the city is an undead psycho corpse,” she explained. “Anyway, we're just exploring the place, trying to have some fun, which is something you could try.”

CJ chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Alright then, teach me; what have you done so far for ‘fun’?”

“Well, I've done some window shopping, played video games with Terry- what!” Angela snapped when he began cracking up.

“You, play video games?” CJ continued laughing.

“Why do people assume I can’t play video games?” Angela asked out loud, before directing back to CJ. “I'm good at them.”

“Whatever,” he said, his laughter dying down.

“And I went to the bookstore and picked a few books, gonna’ start reading one tonight,” Angela finished.

“Oh yeah, because reading is so much fun,” CJ mocked, eating a chip.

“It is to me.”

“Whatever you say.” 

The security door suddenly opened, Angela looking over when Michael reappeared, setting the sheet back down on the desk. He then grabbed the keys to the cell, which were securely hidden in one of the metal lockers, throwing them to Angela.

“You have your gun on you?”

“Yeah, why?” she replied, catching the keys.

“These two said they wanted to take a shower,” Michael pulled his gun out, pointing it to the men in the cell, “we’re gonna’ need to be armed while we escort them to the bathroom, so they don’t try anything stupid.”

“What is this, a goddamn prison?” CJ muttered.

“Well, you did threaten to shoot everybody,” Angela pointed out, unlocking the cell.

Michael led the two to the employee’s bathroom down the narrow hallway, Angela following with her gun out. Bart grumbled under his breath the whole way, CJ staying quiet when they entered the bathroom. Fresh towels were already laid out on the sinks, clean clothes hanging up on the pegs next to the shower cubicles. Angela stood by the doorway while Michael gestured to the showers.

“You’ve got five minutes, so make it quick.”

“Five minutes? I spend that amount of time just jerkin’ off,” Bart said, Angela and Michael sharing the same disgusted looks on their faces.

“Bart, just get in the fuckin’ shower,” CJ snapped, entering one cubical.

Bart entered the next cubical, the two of them beginning to undress behind the doors. Michael leant against the wall opposite Angela, rolling his eyes. CJ had already turned the shower on, while Bart peaked his head over the cubical door, smirking at Angela.

“You really gonna’ stay in here while we shower?”

“You’re in a private stall, doesn’t matter,” Angela said, noticing Bart’s smirk widening. “If you show me your dick, I’ll shoot it off and feed it to them fuckers outside.”

The smirk immediately disappeared from his face, a look of horror replacing it and quickly turned away from Angela, standing under the spray of water. Michael stared at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement, Angela shrugging her shoulders.

“What, I’m serious… even if it might be a small meal.”

A barrage of profanities erupted from Bart’s cubicle, Michael finding it hard to hide his amusement, and to Angela’s surprise, even CJ let out a snort from his cubicle.

“Hey, man, why you laughin’?” Bart shouted at him.

“’Cause it was funny, that’s why.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of Domestic Abuse and Miscarriages

Angela pushed back the curtains, taking small careful steps as she walked down the platform. She stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, balancing in the ridiculously tall stilettos while she twisted her hips.

“I’m not sure about this one, Monica.”

Said woman, who sat with Ana and Glen on the cushioned stools in the woman’s clothing store, grinned and leant forward, looking Angela up and down. “No, you look hot.”

A questionable look pinched Angela’s face while she looked at herself in the mirror. Her feet wobbled slightly in the black leather high-heels, the pencil skirt she donned hugging her thighs and hips. The hot pink shirt felt exposing and had too many ruffles for Angela’s taste.

“You look like Bambi trying to walk for the first time in those things,” Ana chuckled, pointing out Angela’s unsteadiness in the shoes.

“It’s not just the shoes, this skirt is so tight around my knees, I can hardly walk.” She tugged at the material. “Why is it so tight?”

“It’s fashion,” Monica shrugged.

“Well, for,” she looked at the tag on the skirt, “three-hundred and fifty dollars, I would like the skirt to be comfortable.”

“So, Monica’s outfit choice is out?” Ana asked, Glen, who was rolling white silk gloves up his arm, nodding in agreement

Monica pouted her glossy scarlet lips. “Aw, you guys are no fun.”

Shuffling back to the changing room, Angela immediately shed the skin-tight skirt, kicking off the stilettos. Picking up the next outfit, which was Glen’s choice, she was happy to find it was a pair of light denim jeans. Shimmying into them, Angela relished in the softness of the fabric, appreciating the way it stretched with her every movement. What else would you expect from a four-hundred dollars pair of jeans, she thought.

Slipping on a loose, cream coloured blouse and flat white shoes, Angela was pleasantly surprised at how much she liked the outfit, and if she had five-hundred and fifty dollars to spare before the outbreak happened, she might have bought it. Dramatically pulling the curtains open, she strutted out on the walkway, posing ridiculously, much to the other’s amusement.

"That looks really good on you," Ana said, watching the brunette jutted her leg out, posing in the mirror.

Monica nodded in agreement. “It's cute.”

“I love this one, and these jeans are so soft, it’s like I’m wearing clouds for pants,” Angela said, turning to older man in the trio. “Nice choice, Glenn.”

He smiled, gloved hand coming to his face coyly. “I have impeccable taste, if I do say so myself.”

After the amateur fashion show, Monica announced she was going to give Steve her own private ‘show’ with her new outfits, prompting Angela and Ana to leave the store as well, Glenn happily staying to browse the women’s shoes.

It had been four days since the second group had arrived at the mall, and surprisingly, life had been content. For the most part, everyone got along with each other, though Steve presented himself as quite the character in Angela’s opinion. Even so, friendships developed in the group, even between Kenneth and Andy. There was an abundance of activities to do in the mall, from testing out gadgets from the electronic stores, playing different sports, watching movies from the large selection in the video store, and even more things to keep them entertained for a long time. Every night, they even had cooked meals at the large table Michael and Tucker had set up in the foyer, where they could sit and enjoy the company, laughing and telling stories. Life in the mall began settling, besides the ever-growing crowd of undead outside, though everyone seemed to push that threat to the back of their minds since the mall remained a secure fortress from them.

Entering the food court, Angela and Ana followed the sound of chopping, finding Michael cutting up vegetables in one of the kitchens. The two women held back their laughter when they saw him dressed in a matching red apron and chef hat, adding the vegetables to a mixing bowl.

“Never took red as your colour,” Ana said playfully, leaning on the counter when Michael smiled at her.

“Pretty fitting isn’t it?” he asked, continuing to slice vegetables. “I always wanted to be a chef.”

Angela pinched a slice of cucumber, taking a bite. “Living the dream.”

“What brings you both down here, then?”

Ana also took a piece of cucumber, avoiding Michael’s batting hand. “Angela’s taking the lunch shift in the security room.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, the dreaded shift.” 

Angela looked between the two, shrugging awkwardly. “I mean, it’s not that bad.”

As well as making friendships with everyone in the mall, she had surprisingly began to get along with CJ, who was still locked in the cell in the security office; Michael had decided the two should stay in there for the foreseeable future, regarding them still a threat. However, Angela found as the days progressed, he could hold a decent conversation, attitude depending. Bart remained a problem towards Angela, his childish attitude making him unlikable, but she’s learning to ignore him, only talking to CJ.

“Please,” Ana snorted, “trying to talk to either of them two is pointless – they’re assholes.”

Angela frowned, recalling the small conversations she had with CJ. “Bart definitely is, and I know the way CJ acted was way out of order, but he’s okay once you talk to him.”

Ana shook her head. “Well, you must have some magic powers to get words out of him.”

Michael hummed in agreement, passing Angela two plastic containers. “Well, if they cause you any trouble, just come and tell me.”

“I’ll be fine,” Angela said, clutching the boxes under her arm.

Michael raised a brow. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Angela smiled, waving as she exited the kitchen. “Anyway, I'll leave you to it, chef.”

“That's Chef Michael to you,” he called back. 

Carrying the containers, Angela passed an intense game of poker between Norma, Tucker, and Terry, Nicole watching attentively from Terry’s side. It was pleasant to see the young girl finally interacting with the group; after the tragic death of her father, Nicole spent the first couple of days grieving, understandably. The only person she turned to was Terry, who coaxed her out of her quiet shell and encouraged her to socialise to take her mind of the recent events. Angela briefly chatted to them before disappearing down the narrow hallway, pushing open the heavy security door.

“I bring food and water for the prisoners.”

CJ, who had been lounging on the one comfy chair in the cell, threw his head back in annoyance at Angela’s announcement. “Wish you'd stop callin’ us that every time you come in here.”

“Well,” Angela said, “it would be ironic calling you the guards since you're the ones locked up.”

She opened the hatch on the cell door, CJ stretching as he stood from his seat, taking the food containers from her. “Very funny, you should consider being a comedian,” he sarcastically said, unloading the boxes on the table.

Bart, who had been asleep on the couch, disturbed from his slumber when he heard the thud of the boxes, yawning while sitting up. “Well, it's about fuckin' time.”

Angela rolled her eyes, muttering, “you’re welcome.”

Closing the hatch, she took a seat on the couch, grabbing a book she left on the coffee table the previous day. Bart had already begun devouring his food, shoving forkfuls into his mouth greedily, while CJ popped the lid of his container and inspected the food. “Hm, chicken, mushroom, and rice. Makes a difference from the pathetic cheese sandwiches and chips.”

“Ooh,” Angela teased, turning a page of her book, “maybe you’re starting to get in Michael's good books.” 

“Yeah, like that asshole ever will,” he muttered, taking a first bite of the food.

She sighed, shaking her head. “You shouldn't say stuff like that.”

“Well, it's true,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “he's the one that’s keeping us in here, treating us like animals.”

“And whose fault is that?” she asked pointedly. 

Falling silent, Angela could tell CJ was trying to think of a witty comeback, though he just looked down at his food, mumbling, “Whatever.”

Continuing to read her book, the room became quiet, besides the sound of Bart smacking his lips together as he ate, which Angela was learning to tune out. Becoming lost in her own world, the words on the pages turned into images in her head, her imagination taking her away from the security room. It was only a few minutes later that she came back to reality, looking away from the pages after CJ called her name loudly.

“What?”

“I said your name about five times,” he replied, squinting at the book in her hands. “The hell you readin’ anyway?”

“‘The Time Traveller’s Wife,’” she answered, “it’s about a man who has a genetic disorder that gives him the power to time travel, but it’s unpredictable and he has no control over it. The story revolves around him and his wife, who has to cope with him disappearing at random times.”

The guard’s face scrunched in mild disgust. “So, it’s one of those lovey-dovey books?”

“If you mean ‘romance novels’, then yes, it is,” she said, “it’s a good book so far.”

“Let me guess,” CJ said, leaning back in his chair as he took another mouthful of food, “they go through a hard time, they almost break-up, then things magically work out and they live happily ever after?” 

“I don’t know, I haven’t finished it,” she said.

“But it’s going to happen, like every other ‘romance novel’ you’ve read?”

“No, I…” Angela pursed her lips, glaring at him, “so, what if it does? I like happy endings.”

“You know what would have been a good love story,” Bart suddenly interrupted, throwing his empty food container on the floor, “me and that chick from the Dairy Queen.”

An exasperated moan filled the room, CJ rubbed his temples roughly. “Will you shut the fuck up about that Dairy Queen chick?”

Sulking, Bart crossed his arms as he curled up on the couch, mumbling how ‘he was going to get laid’ under his breath.

Shaking his head, CJ returned his attention to Angela. “Happy endings don’t happen in real life.”

“Obviously, it’s fiction,” she said sharply, “it’s why I like reading it.”

“Touched a nerve?” CJ raised a brow, Angela ignoring him and focusing on her book. “I noticed you don’t have a ring on your finger.”

Angela glanced away from the book, staring at her bare ring finger. “Well, that’s the usual when you’re divorced.”

“What happened?”

Angela looked over at CJ, who was now leant forward, hands clasped together on the table. “Why do you want to know?” she questioned suspiciously.

He shrugged idly. “Curious.”

Angela frowned, internally debating whether to tell him. It was surprising that he even asked, as Angela never thought he would be the type to be interested in her life before the outbreak. It's wasn't CJ asking that bothered her, it was the fact that she hadn't openly talked about her divorce for a couple of years now. People asked how she was doing and whether she was dating, which was always a big fat no, but the only people she ever talked to about it in detail was her mother, Jon, and Cathy. Angela kept things bottled up, which she knew was unhealthy.

Sighing inwardly, she closed her book and placed it next to her, setting her feet up on the coffee table while she propped her head with a pillow, relaxing into the couch.

“This a therapy session?”

“Oh, trust me, it will feel like that,” she half-heartedly chuckled. “Well, what do you wanna’ know?”

“Well, was it always a crappy relationship?”

“No, we were actually high-school sweethearts,” Angela started, the corners of her mouth flicking up in remembrance. “Eric proposed after we both graduated college and married the next year; I got my dream job as a teacher while he worked as an accountant. We bought this beautiful big house, with three bedrooms, a big backyard, and even a white picket fence, perfect for a family.

“We started trying for a baby a few years later, when we started earning enough money. We were so happy when we found out I was pregnant, even though I was only a few weeks along.” Her smile slowly dropped. “When I miscarried, it was devastating, though the doctor reassured us that it was common to have a miscarriage before twelve weeks, and we could easily get pregnant again. So, we tried again, I fell pregnant again, and this time I lost the baby at twenty weeks. After the that miscarriage, we decided to get tested, and it turned out that it would be impossible for me to carry a baby full-term.”

Feeling her chest tighten, she shook her head, continuing with her story.

“We stayed together, Eric saying we didn’t need kids to be happy, but I knew that wasn’t true; it broke his heart that I couldn’t have kids, and he blamed me a hundred percent. Our marriage started to break down, but we threw ourselves into our jobs instead of dealing with it. His whole life started to revolve around that job, he probably loved it more than me, which is why things really went downhill we he was let go from the company. He started drinking heavily, since he had nothing else to do really. Every night, he would go out drinking and come home around three in the morning wasted, and he just became a very angry person. Anything I did was wrong in his eyes: the way I cooked, how I cleaned the house, what I wore.”

Angela paused, looking over to see CJ listening intently, and took a deep breath before continuing.

“He got violent, sometimes... only when he was really out of it,” she whispered, still loud enough for CJ to hear though. “He never touched me, but I know he wanted to; he would throw things at my direction, scream in my face, throw punches that would just miss my head, hitting the wall next to it instead. One night, he just lost it – came home at four in the morning so drunk, he could hardly stand up. We got into a huge argument and he started throwing things all over the house, even burned some of my clothes.”

She sighed, remembering the night clearly. “Once he finally passed out, I packed what was left of my clothes and a few other things and went to my best friend’s house. I filed for a divorce the next morning.”

When she finished, her throat was tight, mouth dry as the harsh memories had flooded back to her. From inside the cell, CJ held a blank face as he stared at Angela, remaining silent. Though Angela felt cautious about revealing such personal information about herself, especially to CJ of all people, but it didn’t feel weird – it felt good, to just speak to someone.

“Damn, and I thought my marriage was shitty.”

Angela suddenly snapped her head to the man in the cell, surprised. “You were married?”

“Yeah,” he replied, quirking a single brow, “what's so shocking about that?”

“I don’t know, just couldn't picture you married to… anyone.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“So, what happened to you?” she asked, “I told my divorce story, you tell yours.”

Scratching his moustache, he paused before clucking his tongue. “Alright, I guess it started right after we got married, which was probably her goal the whole time we were together. She quit her job and lived the life of fuckin’ luxury as a housewife, spending all my hard-earned money on clothes and shit like that. Every time she went out, she flirted with every guy that crossed her path. One night, I came home early to find her fuckin' some guy in our bed.”

Finishing his brief summary of his failed marriage, Angela, for the first time since coming to the mall, felt bad for CJ; no one deserved to be treated like that, and Angela could now partly understand his mistrust with people, though it still didn’t excuse his previous behaviour.

“Damn, that's harsh.”

CJ snorted. “You’re tellin’ me. I guess that stubby little bastard, Cupid, just likes to fuck me over.”

“Hey, don't give up yet, maybe you could find the right woman.” A coy smile appeared on her face, Angela biting back a chuckle. “I know there's a lot outside that would just love to take a bite out of you.”

CJ laughed at Angela’s joke, the quick bark of a laugh she had only heard once before, but she knew it was genuine. Again, it took her by surprise, causing her to laugh as well.

“You're taking this comedian thing too seriously.”

Laughter turning to a quiet snigger, she shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, you're the one who suggested it.”

“Well, you’re the only one who seems to have a fuckin’ sense of humour around here.”

“Hmph,” Angela thought for a moment, “I’ve been told you’re not much of a conversation person.”

CJ reflected upon her comment. “Maybe.”

Angela let out a deep sigh, allowing her head relax against the pillow, staring up at the blank ceiling. It was quite peaceful in the security office, just the gentle hum of the monitors as background noise. However, if you looked at it from CJ and Bart’s view, it must be boring and on the point of stir-crazy being locking in here all the time. A sudden conflicting thought entered Angela’s mind; even though CJ and Bart’s behaviour were despicable, were the group just as bad for locking the two up like criminals? Feeling a heavy ball in the pit of her stomach, Angela had to remind herself that CJ did threaten their lives, whether he was scared or not.

Forcefully relaxing her body, Angela let her eyes close, staying like that for a few minutes. She nearly drifted off to sleep, until a sudden rustling noise disturbed her. Eyes opening, her head poked up to see CJ stealing cigarettes out of Bart's pocket, who was soundly asleep once again.

“You do realise stealing is bad, right?”

He merely shrugged as he stuffed them in his pocket, retreating to his chair. “The dipshit shouldn't have fallen asleep – I'm running low.”

Angela rolled her eyes, stretching as she moved from her comfortable position. “You were bitchin' about this yesterday-”

“I don't bitch.”

“-which is why I got you these,” she finished, pulling a fresh pack of cigarettes from her pocket, CJ watching as she waved the pack in her hand, opening the hatch. “I was going to give you them tomorrow, but since you've resorted to stealing, you might as well have them now.”

Cautiously, he took the pack from her, arching a brow as he tossed the pack in his hand. “How come you're smuggling in cigarettes for me? They poisoned or something.”

“No, just a good deed I guess?” Angela said, shutting the hatch.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” he said, opening the pack up. He put one in his mouth, hesitating before suddenly offering the pack to her. “Want one?”

Angela frowned, staring at the white sticks in disgust. “No thanks, I quit years ago.”

“So?” CJ said, “it's not like it matters now, with the shitstorm that’s happening out there, who knows how long we have left. Have one.”

Angela wanted to say no, but CJ’s words hit something inside of her, and a cigarette was suddenly tempting to her – one wouldn’t harm her. “Fine.”

Grinning, a rare sight to see, CJ pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, lighting his cigarette before pulling another cigarette from the pack and lighting it. He carefully pushed the second cigarette through the narrow gaps of the cell door, Angela taking it and placing it between her lips.

She took a drag, allowing the smoke to hit her lungs before exhaling it out. “It's been a long time.”

“Never would have took you for a smoker,” CJ said, cigarette balanced in his mouth.

“Only for about two years, after the divorce,” she explained, “I quit after being constantly bombarding with lung cancer leaflets from the hospital by my friend.” Thinking of her deceased friend and those happy memories, a mournful smile appeared on her face.

“Fifteen years and still going,” he said, tucking the pack in his pocket.

Angela took a thoughtful puff on her cigarette. “You should really consider quitting, y'know.”

“I think smoking is the least of my concerns at the moment, need I remind you,” he pointed out, raising a hand to gesture to the cell he was sitting in.

Angela stared into space, taking the cigarette from her lips as she exhaled another cloud of smoke. “Point taken.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

The sun was intense for the morning, Angela wiping the sweat from her brow while frowning at the chess board, thinking carefully of her next move. She sat on a cushion on the gravelled floor of the rooftop, Kenneth sat in his metal chair next to her. A durag protected his head from the glaring heat while he observed Angela intently. From across the parking lot, Andy waited patiently for her next move as well. Kenneth had come to be good friends with Andy over the past week, despite never talking face-to-face, the two of them bonding over games of chess and using giant whiteboards as a form of communication. Angela had witnessed a few games between them, the cop teaching her how to play. Now, she was in her fourth match against Andy, who had won the three previous games.

“Hate to say it, but you’re not gonna’ win this one,” Tucker commented, also watching the game from over her shoulder.

Tongue between her teeth, she finally made a move, Kenneth writing it down on the board and showing to Andy. Both raising their binoculars, they watched the gunman quickly move his pieces, scribbling it down on the board.

Q → b2. Checkmate.

“Dammit!” she hissed, dropping the binoculars.

Tucker shook his head. “Told ‘ya.”

Begrudgingly, she copied the move on her board, one of her pieces getting knocked out. Sighing, she stared at the board for a few moments, looking up to Kenneth for help. Angela could see the look of boredom on his face, Kenneth noting the fed up look on hers.

“We need a new game.”

Writing what he had said on the board, Kenneth stood from his chair and held the sign up for Andy to read, Angela swiping the chess board clean. Picking her binoculars back up, she saw Andy sit in thought, looking down at the street below. She followed his line of sight, looking at the huge horde of undead that overflowed the mall parking lot, now spilling out into the surrounding streets. Michael reckoned there was nearly a thousand of them now, which unnerved her, but she forced it to the back of her head, knowing the mall was still secure for the time being.

One thing Angela did notice however was that after a week, the undead crowd were starting to go through early stages of decomposition, the constant glare of the sun speeding it up. Their skin had begun to discolour and blister, rotting from the inside out. The putrid smell of death had begun lingering in the air, though after an hour on the roof it was less noticeable, which Angela didn’t know was a good thing or not.

Focusing her attention back to Andy, he held his whiteboard up. Pick a celebrity. I shoot. They continued watching through their binoculars as he gestured to the crowd below, wiping his board clean before writing something else. I shoot right, I win. I shoot wrong, you win.

“So, he wants us to pick an undead celebrity look-alike, and he’s gotta’ guess which one it is and shoot it?” she asked, making sure of the game.

Kenneth nodded his head. “Guess so.”

“Huh, kinda’ sounds like Hollywood Squares,” Tucker thought aloud.

“A fucked-up version,” Angela added.

“Yeah, well, what are ya’ gonna’ do,” Tucker said, searching the crowd with his binoculars. “So, who can we pick?"

Angela contemplated the morality of the game before ultimately raising her binoculars, joining in on the search – she had to remind herself that these things weren’t people anymore, and if given the chance, they would rip her apart and devour her innards.

“Ooh, how about Elvis Presley?” Tucker suggested, “far left, near the dumpster.”

“Young, skinny Elvis or fat, old Elvis?” she asked, trying to find the look-alike.

“Young, skinny Elvis. Fat Elvis would be too easy.”

Angela nodded when she found the infected they were talking about; it’s face held a resemblance of the famous singer, his hair combed back while wearing a blue blood-stained shirt and black pants.

“Elvis it is,” Kenneth said, writing it on the board and holding it up.

When Andy gave a thumbs up, all three looked through their binoculars locked on the ‘celebrity zombie’, patiently waiting. The gunman searched through the crowds with a sniper rifle, one eye looking through the scope carefully. After a tense thirty seconds, they heard the gunshot, watching a bullet zip through the zombie’s skull, the back of its head exploding with brain matter. The three were stunned silent when the thing fell to the ground.

“Holy shit,” Tucker suddenly laughed, looking at the other two, “he got him, he actually got him.”

Kenneth also began laughing in disbelief, Angela following suit as she saw Andy’s smug face looking right back at them. Lowering his binoculars, Kenneth looked at the other two, a wide grin on his face.

“Who’s next?”

After a couple more rounds of Hollywood Squares with Andy shooting zombified look-alikes Michael Jordan, Arnold Schwarzenegger, the Queen of England, and a few others correctly, Angela called it quits and left the two men on the roof to further enjoy the game. Nicole and Terry greeted her in the stairwell, the girl spray painting a mural on one of the walls while he sat watching. The young girl was a budding artist, wanting to go to art school before the outbreak had happened. A lot of her time had been devoted in art supplies store in the mall, experimenting with as many materials as she could, spray paint being her favourite choice so far.

“Hey,” Angela greeted the younger two, leaning against the rails as she watched Nicole, “what you painting?”

“Just free handing some doodles – typical graffiti stuff,” she explained, shaking the can in her hand.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?" Terry said to Angela, puppy dog eyes looking back to the young girl.

Angela nodded in agreement, walking down the stairs. “Yeah, they look really good. When you finish in here, you could do the blank wall in Metropolis, liven the place up a bit.”

Nicole smiled shyly before continuing her painting. “Thank you.”

Leaving the stairwell, she took the elevator down to the lower floor, making her way to Hallowed Grounds; she was taking lunch for CJ and Bart, like she always does, so she was picking up their meals from Michael at the coffee store. He and Ana were seated at the counter, but as Angela neared, she also noticed Steve preparing himself a drink. A groan escaped her mouth, not making eye-contact with the man when he smirked at her.

“I don’t even want to talk to you.”

Steve let out a chuckle, Ana and Michael clueless to the situation as she reached the counter.

“What’s happened now?” Ana asked with a frown.

“Oh, nothing, except I walked into the electronics store early this morning to find this sick bastard,” Angela pointed at Steve, who grinned while sipping his coffee, “playing his homemade porno with Monica on every single television in the store. I saw things I really didn’t need to see.”

Ana scoffed in disgust, glaring at the tall man. “Really?”

“Hey,” he held his hands up defensively, “a masterpiece deserves to be seen on as many screens as possible.”

Michael shook his head, ignoring the other man’s obnoxious laughter and slid three food containers across the counter towards Angela. “All yours.”

“Thanks,” she said, noticing Ana eyeing the third extra box. “What are we having for dinner tonight?”

“I was thinking spaghetti and meatballs, something nice and simple.”

“Ooh, been a while since I had that,” Angela’s mouth watered as she thought of the delicious meal, “I’ll come down later to help.”

Michael nodded. “Great, I’ll see you later.”

Waving to Ana and Michael, Angela balanced the boxes of food in her arms, setting off towards the security office. Leaving Hallowed Grounds, though still in earshot, she heard Ana whisper a comment to Michael. “She eats her lunch in there now? I don’t know how she stands them two.”

A frown crossed her face, wondering what the big deal was; she always took CJ and Bart’s lunch to them now. Sure, it was supposed to be alternated between the group, but no one else liked doing it and Angela always volunteered instead. Hence, it became silly to have her lunch later after sitting in the office for an hour, so she told Michael she would just eat with the two guards. Stopping at the office door, Angela realised she did spend a lot of time in the office, much more than anyone else. Yesterday, Terry gave her a weird look when she told him she was making CJ an early morning coffee, and the day before when Kenneth caught her taking a pack of cigarettes for CJ.

But so what, Angela thought – and anyway, she didn’t like spending time with Bart. She made it very clear she didn’t like the immature man and only tolerated him for CJ, who could uphold an interesting conversation, and he was starting to accept her witty banter. Angela’s thoughts paused, her mind stuck on CJ – how much she talked to him, the things she did for him, how much she thought about him.

Shaking her head, she stopped herself from thinking too much into it, pushing down the odd feeling in her stomach and stepped in the office. Surprisingly, she found Glen resting against the door to the cell, in the middle of telling a story. Inside the cell, she saw CJ lying on the couch, pillows covering his ears while Bart performed push-ups on the floor.

“Hey, Glen,” she greeted, catching the attention of the older man, “didn’t expect to see you in here.”

At the sound of her voice, CJ sat up, wide eyes staring at Angela as if she was Jesus herself. Glenn smiled at the woman when she set the food on the coffee table.

“I was just telling CJ and Bart a story from my childhood,” he explained. “Want some company while you’re eating your lunch?” 

Behind the man, CJ frantically jerked his head at Angela, a horrified look on his face. A small smile appeared on her lips as she focused back to Glen. “That would be nice…” Angela bit her lip at CJ’s panicked face, holding in her laughter, “but I think Monica wants you.”

“Really?” he asked, excitement in his voice. “I’d better go and see her; she might have that foot spa ready for me.”

“Bye, Glen, enjoy your spa treatment,” she called after him when he left the office.

Bart collapsed on the floor, his face buried in the pillows. “Jesus Christ.”

“Thank fuck!” CJ groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I have never been so happy to see you until now.”

“Do I want to know what happened before I walked in?” she asked, sliding the two boxes through the small hatch.

“Fucking torturing us with his story about when he discovered he liked men,” CJ muttered, sitting at the small table and passing Bart his food.

“Oh yeah, he told me that story,” Angela murmured, sitting down in her usual place on the couch. “It was an interesting story, until he got to the part where he watched the decking guy from his bedroom window while he mas-”

“No!” Bart said, hands closing over his ears as CJ cringed. “Please, no!”

Angela chuckled, popping the lid off her box to find a refreshing, healthy salad, digging in with her fork. Bart looked down at his meal disgusted, prodding a baby tomato. “Where’s the meat?”

Angela frowned. “What do you mean? It’s a salad.”

“So, there’s no meat?”

“No, there isn’t.”

The younger man promptly closed the lid on his container, throwing it to the side and pulling out a half-eaten bag of chips along with a ‘dirty’ magazine. “This sucks.”

Rolling her eyes, she continued to eat her food along with CJ, who seemed happy with the salad. A comfortable silence fell over the room, Angela grabbing a celebrity gossip magazine from the table and flipping through it mindlessly.

“You're the only one that stays here, y'know.”

Swallowing her mouthful of food, she looked up at CJ. “What?”

“When they do their ‘shifts’,” he pulled a face, making air quotes with his fingers, “everyone fucks off. Weird how everyone hates us-”

She snorted, “who wouldn't?”

“- except you.”

Angela paused, her previous thoughts rushing back to her mind. “Well, I wouldn’t go as far as that… I hate Bart.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too,” she snapped back at the young man.

“But you don’t hate me?” An amused smirk graced CJ’s face when Angela stuttered, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Flustered?”

Feeling her face heating up, she quickly looked down at the magazine, concealing her rosy cheeks. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, don't you worry about that, you're always in my dreams.”

Angela’s face burned red like a schoolgirl at CJ’s comment, Bart snickering in the background. She realised she did feel very much flustered, but instead buried her face deeper into the magazine.

“And you wonder why everyone doesn't like you,” she muttered, though there was no malice behind it.

“You don't.”

The room fell silent again after that exchange, Angela's cheeks finally returning to their normal colour a few minutes later. Finishing her food, she discarded the box, avoiding eye contact with CJ as she read her magazine. However, the familiar sounds of snoring filled the room, Angela looking to find Bart asleep on the floor, his hands loosely holding his magazine. One particular snore resembled a pig’s snort, Angela flinching at the sound.

“Does he do anything else besides eat and sleep?”

CJ looked at the sleeping man, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really.”

Picking up a pillow from one of the chairs, he hurled it at sleeping figure, striking him on the head. His snoring stopped and he spasmed in his sleep, letting the pillow stay on his head.

“Geez...” Angela chuckled.

“Son of a bitch will sleep through anything,” CJ mumbled, picking up a woman’s magazine from the table in the cell, flicking through it before chuckling quietly. “Hey, Angela, I found the perfect the article for you; ‘ten ways to keep your man satisfied’.”

He held the magazine up, Angela huffing at his joke while continuing to read her magazine, before laughing at an article title that caught her eye. “Well, maybe you should read this one; ‘top tips to keep your hair thick and healthy’.”

Adjusting the hat on his head as the amusement fell from his face, he grunted, “very funny.”

Angela continued laughing though, holding her hands up. “You’re the one that told me to be a comedian.”

Flicking to the next page, CJ sat up straight, gesturing to her again. “Okay, here's a good one; ‘Top ten ingredients to a successful relationship’.”

“Wow, this one could benefit us both,” she said, putting her magazine down.

“I’m gonna’ skip to the top three,” he murmured, running his finger down the page. “Number three: he listens to me.”

“Hm, finding a guy that listens is rare.”

“Hey, I listen to your jammer all the time, don’t I?” he interjected before returning to the article, “number two: he tells me he loves me.”

“Is that when he’s sober or when he’s drunk?” 

“And number one… trust.”

CJ met Angela’s gaze, a faint smile appearing on her face. “How cliché.”

 

A little while later, after a long conversation with CJ, she left the security office with the food containers, intending on taking them back to the kitchens. Coming up to Hallowed Grounds though, where Norma sat smoking, Angela spotted Luda wandering the mall, hands rubbing her belly. Angela was surprised – she hadn’t seen Luda for a couple of days since she had been hidden away in the nursery.

“Luda!” Angela called, dropping the food containers on the counter at the coffee shop. “How are you?”

Norma, who was equally shocked to see the pregnant woman, smiled, quickly stubbing her cigarette out. “Hey, darlin, haven’t seen you for a few days.”

Luda waddled over to the coffee store, resting on the counter for support, looking exhausted. Angela looked at her closely, realising how pale and sweaty her skin was, bags beginning to form under her eyes. Her damp hair clung to her head as she sat down on a chair, taking a deep breath.

“Hi,” she merely said, regaining her breath.

“Are you okay?” Angela asked, running a hand through the woman’s hair.

“Yes, I just-” Luda cringed, clutching her belly.

“You don’t look too good,” Norma said, also coming closer to comfort her.

“Baby is kicking,” Luda struggled to breathe deeply, “hurting my ribs.”

“Oh, I remember that well,” Norma said, smile faltering slightly for a moment. “It’s hard, but just think, the baby will be here soon.”

“I am so tired, I just want sleep,” Luda murmured, eyes closing as her head rested against Norma.

Angela patted her hair, noticing her skin had a slight tinge of grey. “Maybe Ana needs to check you and the baby, make sure everything’s okay.”

“I am worried about baby.”

Before Angela could question her, Andre suddenly appeared, running up and wrapping his arms around his wife, pushing the other two women back. “There you are! Don’t disappear like that, baby, you had me worried.”

“Why? She’s fine out here,” Angela asked, setting a hand on her hip.

Andre ignored her question, helping Luda stand up from the chair. “Come on, let’s get you back to the nursey, let you rest.”

“Maybe Ana needs to check her over,” Norma suggested.

“She’s fine,” he said, guiding Luda away from them.

Ana, who appeared from one of the nearby stores, walked over to the group, stopping Andre and Luda. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Angela said, turning to the blonde woman. “Luda said she’s worried about the baby, and she doesn’t look too good.”

Andre stopped, glancing at his wife before sighing deeply. “There’s nothing wrong with Luda or the baby. She’s just worried about giving birth without any help, that’s all. She’s tired and needs to rest.”

“I know that, but if Luda is stressed out, she’s going to harm the baby.” An anxious look crossed Andre’s face as Ana put a hand to Luda’s forehead. “She does need rest, Andre, but she also needs a check-up, make sure the baby is in the right position and whether Luda is healthy enough. I’m a nurse, I know what I’m doing.”

Looking at his wife, he gathered her closer in his arms, letting her head rest on his shoulder. “You can check up on her later, after she’s rested up, okay?”

Ana nodded, stepping aside to let the couple pass, watching them leave towards the nursery. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

When the couple disappeared out of sight, the three women sharing worried looks, Angela narrowing her eyes. “Do you think somethings up with them two?”

Norma sat back down, lighting another cigarette. “I guess it’s hard on them both. Like Andre said, she’s giving birth in a mall, not a hospital.”

“I know, but,” Angela sighed, crossing her arms, “Andre was a little weird, especially when talking about the baby. Don’t you think?”

Ana shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but I’ll know more when I check up on her later.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Angela said, though it didn’t settle the unnerving feeling in her stomach.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Monica leant forward on the table, her cunning smirk prominent on her cherry lips, tapping her freshly painted nails on the hard plastic. “Okay, who would you rather fuck: Jude Law, Denzel Washington, or Johnny Depp?”

Norma choked as she sipped her beer, stifling a laugh. “Honey, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a man in bed, I don’t know how it works anymore.”

Laughter broke out amongst the women around the table, Ana steadying her hand while she painted Nicole’s nails, Monica giggled uncontrollably. Angela shook her head, taking a sip of wine to mask her amusement. The five women were sat outside one of the more luxurious restaurants in the mall, having brunch with plentiful of alcohol. Angela had only been fresh out of bed when Monica had pounced on her in the bathroom, declaring they were having a girly day. The intention was to have all the ladies of the mall join, but Luda was tucked away in the nursery, Andre saying she wasn’t feeling up to it, rejecting Monica and Ana’s persuasions.

After a large buffet breakfast, they had spent most of the morning with a pamper session while indulging in some ‘dirty talk’ started by Monica, though Angela wasn’t surprised since the curly blonde was a walking seductress, oozing confidence every minute of the day – Angela admired her for it, albeit slightly jealous as well. The conversation, however, brought normality for her, thinking she was having brunch friends like any other day instead held up in a mall surrounded by hordes of zombies.

“How about you, Angela?” Monica looked at the brunette woman, playfully wiggling her eyebrows, “who would you do?” 

“Hmm,” thinking for a moment, Angela contemplated between the three actors as she placed her glass down, “I’m gonna’ go with Denzel Washington. I really had the hots for him in Training Day, even though his character was an asshole.”

Monica nodded, seemingly agreeing with her choice, though a sly smile appeared on her face. “Well, you certainly have a type – assholes in a uniform.” Angela’s amusement faltered at the comment, but before she could question Monica further, the blonde had moved on to Nicole. “Who would you go for, Ginger?”

The young girl flushed at the question, cheeks turning pink and shrugging her shoulders coyly. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Monica said, moving closer to her, like a lioness moving in on her prey, “who makes you feel hot and bothered, gets you all riled up thinking about them?” 

“Monica, leave her alone,” Ana interrupted, hiding a smile while she painted Nicole’s pinkie, who seemed like she wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole, “you’re embarrassing the poor girl.”

“I’m just playing,” she pouted, leaning back in her chair, though her eyes quickly darted back to the girl, “Terry does, doesn’t he?”

Nicole’s mouth fell open, face turning the shade of beetroot, causing Monica to cackle loudly and even Ana struggling to contain her laughter. A hand fell over Norma’s face in an attempt to hide her grin, while Angela offered the young girl a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Yeah, you’re a woman, it’s natural,” Monica took a large gulp of wine before raising her glass in the air, “we’re also stuck in the middle of the fucking apocalypse, with no idea how long we’ve got left to live, so just go for it because who knows if it’ll be your last.” She took another sip. “Why d’ya think I chose Steve?”

Ana shrugged. “Bad taste in sleazy men?”

The table erupted in laughter once more, though Angela became lost in thought over Monica’s words, CJ appearing in her mind. However, he was more than just a sexual attraction; it was last night Angela realised she harboured legitimate feelings for him after days of denial. For some reason, she felt guilty about her attraction towards CJ, thinking she was betraying the group after the way he treated everyone. The more time she spent with him though, the more she saw his real personality. Sure, he was a sarcastic asshole, but he made Angela laugh, listened to her when she told stories from before the outbreak, shared stories about his life with her. It led her to believe the day on the roof, when CJ had threatened their lives, he was scared just like everyone else in the group – obviously not coping with it in the right way.

Since opening up to her gradually by the day, Angela enjoyed CJ’s company a lot, even putting up with Bart just to spend time with him. Just this morning she intended on enjoying a quick coffee with CJ before meeting up with the girls. It was Ana who had stopped her on her way to Hollowed Grounds, telling her Michael would take care of the mealtimes in the security office and she would have the day off from ‘babysitting’, and Angela felt a small pang in her chest. In another setting it would be pathetic to feel sad about not spending one day with someone after two weeks of seeing them every day, but that was the point – since being trapped in the mall surrounded by infected monsters, it had become a part of Angela’s routine to spend time with CJ. Sure, she had grown close to everyone else in the mall but having one day away from the person she seemed to have connected to on a different level compared to the others made her feel… lost.

Who would have thought Angela would have any other problems, especially her love life, in the middle of a flesh-eating monster outbreak?

“Hello? Earth to Angela.” A hand suddenly appeared in her peripheral, Ana looking concerned. “You okay there?”

Regaining her composure, she answered with a hum and small nod, trying to brush off the fact she had been caught in a daze. However, Monica knew there was something more and quickly pressed her on the subject.

“Thinking about your guy?”

Hesitating for a second, taking notice of Ana’s slight frown in the corner of her sight, she coolly replied, “what guy?”

Placing a finger to her chin, Monica teased, “oh, I don’t know, how about the guy in the security guard uniform stuck in that cell who you visit every day.”

“CJ?” Nicole asked, a hint of disbelief in her tone.

“Well, it’s definitely not the other one,” Monica commented.

“Bart? Hell no,” Angela remarked quickly with disgust, crossing her arms, “but CJ is just someone I spend time with, like you guys.”

Setting down the nail polish, Ana paused for a moment, a flurry of expressions crossing her face before looking accusingly at Angela. “You don’t actually like him, do you?”

Taken aback by the blunt question, her answer stuck in her throat, hesitating. “Well, I enjoy his company,” Angela suddenly narrowed her eyes at her. “Why?”

Untucking her legs and dropping them to the floor, Ana fully turned her body to Angela, posture more stiff. “After what that asshole did to all of us, I can’t believe you would even want to willingly spend a second with him.”

Angela became defensive, sitting up straight in her chair. “I know what he did was awful, truly awful, but he was scared just like the rest of us and reacted badly. After getting to know him after the past two weeks, he’s actually an okay person.”

“That still doesn’t excuse his behaviour!” Ana snapped loudly.

Ana’s tone angered Angela, not liking how her words were being twisted. “I never said it did!”

A firm hand grabbed Angela’s shoulder, settling her in her seat and cutting the heated discussion short. Norma looked between the two women, her other hand signalling to stop. “Okay, I’m calling a time-out here before things get out of hand.”

An awkward silence fell on the table. While the conversation had quickly escalated, Nicole cowered in her chair and the smirk vanished from Monica’s face, replaced with a troublesome look. The fun, light-hearted atmosphere had soured, tension thick in the air. A deep sigh emitted from Angela, her shoulders slumping in embarrassment while Ana crossed her arms, looking coldly at the tiled floor.

“I thought we were having a nice relaxing day, just us girls.” Norma pointed out, like a disappointed mother talking to her children.

“We are,” Ana abruptly stood from the table, not addressing Angela directly but looking at the whole group, “which is why we’re going to drop this conversation and I’m going to get more wine and beer for us.”

Sharply turning on the ball of her foot, the blonde marched away from the table, everyone watching quietly when she disappeared into the restaurant. Norma shook her head, lighting up a cigarette as she stood, giving Angela a reassuring smile, “I’ll go talk to her.”

“I’m gonna’ get some water,” Nicole meekly murmured, excusing herself from the table and following Norma into the restaurant.

Letting her eyes fall away from the restaurant door, Angela grabbed her half-full wine glass and downed it, knowing she was going to regret it later. Now though, she didn’t care, needed alcohol to sooth her poor mood. Opposite her, Monica slinked around the table, taking a seat next to her.

“Okay, I didn’t really listen the first day I arrived,” she suddenly said, putting her hand under her chin, leaning towards Angela intently, “but, what did CJ do that was so terrible to be banished in a cell?”

Pursing her lips, Angela set the empty glass on the table, bringing her knees up to her chin. “When this whole outbreak first happened, it was just the three guards in here: CJ, Bart, and Terry. I was the first one to come here, the others a few hours later, and CJ didn’t exactly welcome us with open arms.” Angela thought back to the very first day, which almost seemed like a lifetime ago. “He was reluctant letting us all stay here, threatening us and treating us like shit… just all around being an asshole.”

Monica nodded, commenting, “yeah, that’s asshole behaviour alright.”

“Well, he did let us all stay and even agreed to Michael’s idea of reinforcing all the entrances of the mall and making signs for help... even if we did do all the work.” A frown appeared on her face as she recalled what CJ had done, remembering how bad it was. “The worst instance that happened was the next day, when you were all in the truck. We wanted to help you guys and get you in the mall as quick as possible, but CJ refused, saying we didn’t know whether any of you were sick, just like those things.” Angela dwelled on her last sentence, an ironic smile forming on her lips and she gave a breathless chuckle, “I guess he was right, since that woman nearly took me out when she turned, and then with Frank… but Ana’s right, that didn’t excuse his behaviour.

“And to make matters worse, he pulled his gun out on us all and threatened to kill every single one of us, just to make sure he remained safe.” Angela looked Monica in the eye, a solemn expression taking her face. “I know it sounds horrible, probably unforgivable, but I truly believe CJ wasn’t thinking straight. His personality is brash and can be very arrogant, but I’ve gotten to know him since being in here and he’s… nice, a different person than he was on that rooftop that day. He’s hostile but that’s because he’s locked up, which I do think he deserved, but-” Angela realised she was beginning to ramble and if she didn’t stop, a spew of word vomit would quickly unravel.

Instead, she leaned back in her chair, staring at woman next to her. Monica’s face remained blank, rolling her tongue across her teeth as she took in Angela’s words. After a few seconds, she shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, it was a shitty thing to do but I don’t really blame him for acting that way.”

Eyes widening for a moment, Angela was surprised, expecting her to react similarly to Ana. “Really?”

Monica nodded. “Yeah, you saw it out there; it wasn’t just those things that were dangerous.”

Eyebrows sinking together, her head tilted curiously. “What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t just those things that were dangerous’?”

For the first time since the group arrived on the truck, Monica’s confidence seemed to drop – something Angela hadn’t witnessed yet – her lips forming a taut line. Before she diverted her eyes down, Angela saw the horrified glaze that overtook them, seemingly recalling an event in her memories. Placing a hand over hers, Angela could feel how tense Monica had become, whispering, “what happened?”

Sucking in a deep breath, ignoring how shaky it was, Monica began, “it was my day off from work that day, so I didn’t wake up till late in the morning. It was only when I was going to check my mail that I knew something was wrong, stepping out of my apartment to a bloodied hallway. My neighbour appeared, fucked up with his neck all torn open, and I only had a split-second to slam my door shut before he got me. More of them came, banging on my door, and when I looked through the peephole, all I saw was white eyes… those goddamn white eyes.

“I lived on the bottom floor, so I just jumped out my window. If only I’d known what the outside was like,” she paused, staring past Angela as she remembered further, “I don’t know how I made it to that church, but I did, Glen pulling me in before those bastards could get me. We spent all night listening to them bang on the doors, trying to board up windows, until Glen radioed Norma on her truck. When she pulled up, we all just made a break for it… most of our group got taken out by those things straight away, only the seven of us making it.

But the worst part, more worse than those monsters, was this crazy bitch in a cream suit pulled a knife out on me just before I made it to the truck shutter – for some reason she thought I was bigger threat to her than the things eating people alive surrounding us. She intended on leaving me behind to get torn apart so she could safely get in the truck,” Monica took a sip of wine, “except she didn’t see one of those things running up behind her, more of them following behind it, so I did the only thing I could do – I pushed her and got into the truck while they started eating her.”

While Angela had listened quietly to Monica’s story, she now couldn’t help but gasp, a look of disbelief crossing her face. Despite Angela’s reaction, Monica retained a hard face, continuing.

“I had to do it - I didn’t want to do that, killing someone, but she was going to do it to me, was gonna’ let those things get me just so she could get to the truck.” A light chuckle broke her cold exterior, though it was filled with sadness. “She didn’t even have to pull the knife on me, we both could have gotten into the truck, so I don’t even know why she did it. Maybe she was scared and wasn’t thinking straight, but I had to, basically, kill her because of her decision.”

Angela was stunned silent, not seeing this side of Monica before; she could see the hurt in her eyes, the usual bright green irises now dark and dull. While recounting her story, the blonde had curled in on herself, posture not as confident. She seemed so sad and traumatised, which broke Angela’s heart. “It wasn’t your fault, Monica. I know it’s hard, but don’t blame yourself for that woman’s death – like you said, she tried to do it to you first, so you did what you did to survive. You would have died.”

Monica nodded, appreciating Angela’s words. “I have to tell myself that every day to stop the guilt eating me up, because I know it wasn’t my fault.” A sigh left her lips, sitting up straight again. “But what I’m trying to tell you is we’ve all experienced fucked up shit since this outbreak, and not just from those monsters. So, I can’t blame anyone for reacting badly to these situations.”

Taking in Monica’s words, Angela frowned. “So, are you saying you don’t think CJ’s truly a bad person?”

“Do you think I’m a bad person for what I did?” When Angela shook her head, Monica smiled lightly. “I think what CJ did was an asshole thing and he deserved to be locked in the cell, but like you said, he probably was scared – and if you think he really has shown his true self and has redeemed himself, maybe he’s been punished enough. Y’know, done the crime, served the time.”

Angela mulled over her words, thinking about the time she’s spent with CJ these past two weeks. She had perceived a change in him and now with her feelings developing for him, it complicated the situation even more.

Massaging her temples, she groaned, “I think you’re right, but the problem is that I just don’t think everyone else sees it that way.”

“Maybe you need to speak to everyone else and CJ,” Monica suggested, rubbing Angela’s shoulder. “If they want to keep them two caged up in there forever without a chance to prove themselves, then they’re just as bad as CJ was.”

Angela smiled, looking at the woman directly in her eyes. In a matter of fifthteen minutes, she felt much closer to Monica, especially how she confided in Angela to share her story. She realised how thoughtful and smart the blonde woman genuinely was. “Thanks, Monica, for not judging me and being so understanding.”

Winking, she picked up her drink. “I’m not just a pretty face.”

 

In the darkness of Metropolis, green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The lights in the mall had shut off an hour ago, which was the amount of time Angela has spent restlessly tossing over in bed. Fed up of squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to sleep, she laid in bed defeated.

The rest of her day had been spent with the girls, her and Ana smoothing things over after their ‘discussion’. Now that she was finally alone, however, she couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Monica; she couldn’t stop thinking about CJ. She wanted to mention to the group about the possibility of letting CJ – and Bart, she supposed – out of the cell, but she didn’t want to possibly start another argument, especially amongst the group. So, she decided she would speak to CJ first and see if he would start being a little nicer to everyone else. Angela thought she could just go to bed to sleep on her thoughts and wait to see him tomorrow, however it was proving to be hard, and she was fed up.

Grabbing the torch from her bedside drawer, she slid out from under the duvet, stuffing her feet into a pair of slippers. Letting the yellow beam guide her way out from the furniture store, she crept through the pitch-black mall. The moans and groans from the undead drifted through the mall – it was something everyone had gotten used to by now, like white noise from a television, though it left Angela feeling vulnerable in the dark so she quickened her pace. Finding the familiar narrow corridor, she faced the security office door, not hesitating when she stepped inside.

The soft hum from the monitors felt soothing, a contrast to the deadly moans echoing through the mall, until an obnoxiously loud snore resembling an animal scared Angela, quickly pointing her flashlight beam into the cell.

“Ah, what the fuck,” a figure sat up from the sofa murmuring, hands covering their face, “Angela?”

“Sorry.” Fumbling for the switch, she turned her flashlight off, letting the blue glow from the monitors illuminate the room. “Did I wake you?”

“No, just nearly blinded me.” Rubbing his hand roughly over his face, CJ allowed his eyes adjust, squinting at the woman standing in the middle of the room. “What are you doing here?”

Clasping both hands on the torch, running her thumbs along the rigid plastic, she stared at his confused expression. Realising she had just waltz into the security office in the middle of the night, in her nightwear, possibly fuelled by the alcohol she had consumed all day, she didn’t know what to say. Clearing her throat, she shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know… I couldn’t sleep.”

Releasing a deep sigh from his chest as he pushed the thin blanket away, he swung his legs off the couch, swiftly kicking a snoring Bart sprawled out on the floor. The young man mumbled, rolling from his back onto his stomach, the snoring ceasing for the moment. CJ sat close to the mesh that confined him to the cell, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you sitting down then, or gonna’ stand there all night?”

Grabbing the comfy office chair, Angela wheeled it to the cell, sitting next to CJ on the opposite side of the mesh. After a minute’s silence, she finally whispered, “it was weird not coming in here today.”

CJ pondered for a moment, humming in agreement. “Yeah, you’re much better company than Michael and Kenneth.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Ah, but did you even try to have a nice conversation with them?”

“Fuck no,” he whispered with a smug grin, Angela stifling her laugh, “where were you today anyway?”

“Having a girl’s day,” she answered, amused at the scowl that appeared on his face, “it was Monica’s idea, couldn’t say no, but I’m glad I did – I had fun.”

“Good for you,” he murmured.

“I had a talk with Monica, actually,” she continued, ignoring his sarcastic comment, “about you, because I may have had a small argument with Ana… about you.”

“Well,” CJ said, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head, “I must be a popular guy then.”

Angela rolled her eyes, bringing her legs up to cross them, spinning the chair to face CJ. “I think you deserve a second chance, possibly come out the cell. Ana disagrees, as do probably the rest of the group, although Monica seems to agree with me; she made me realise why you deserve a second chance.”

Brown eyes darted to her, index finger scratching his moustache. “How?”

Hesitating, Angela tried to formulate the words in her head, careful to give too much away. “She told me people react to highly stressful situations and that it may not reflect who they usually are; we’ve all done things we didn’t want to do when this outbreak happened, you included. I genuinely think you’ve shown you’re not the person that you were the first two days, although you’re still a smug, sarcastic asshole,” an amused huff came from CJ, Angela carrying on, “but not that big of an asshole, and maybe that means you should finally be let out of here. We can’t keep you in here forever, otherwise then we’d be the bad guys.”

CJ sat in silence, staring ahead at the wall while he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well then, how you gonna’ get me out?”

“It’s the others that need convincing, not me,” Angela said, crossing her arms, “so maybe you could start by apologising to-”

He snorted, interrupting her, “no fucking way.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I apologise?” he asked, “I’ve been in here long enough and if they keep me in here longer, then they’re just as bad as I was. So, I ain’t apologising for shit.”

Angela sighed when CJ continued to stare at the wall, closing her eyes as she leant her head back in frustration.

“You wouldn’t stop visiting me though, would you?”

Cracking an eye open, she found the man now staring at her through the mesh, eyes piercing through her. It caused Angela’s heart to skip. “If I didn’t visit anymore, then would you apologise?”

“You and I both know I’m not going to apologise,” he said. “So, would you really stop coming to see me?”

The one thing Angela still disliked about CJ was how stubborn he was… and how right he was. “No, of course I wouldn’t.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Shaking the can in her hand, the rattling echoing in the room, Nicole sprayed the blue paint across the wall. Sitting on an armchair, Angela watched the young girl move carefully along the wall, sweeping her arms in large, expressive gestures. For the past hour, Nicole had been working on a mural for one of the blank walls in Metropolis near Angela’s bed. With Angela’s request of a ‘tropical’ theme, Nicole had designed a seascape complete with a sandy beach and palm trees. Mesmerised with the process, Angela couldn’t get over how Nicole could create something so beautiful that started off with rough outlines and drips of paint running down the walls.

Finishing with the blue of the sea, Nicole took a step back, studied the art piece before turning to the older woman. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing, Nicole,” she replied, smiling at the sunset over the water. “I love it.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, picking up a can of white spray paint, “I’ll add some highlights, do touch-ups, then I’ll be done.”

“Great,” Angela said, standing up from her seat. “I’m gonna’ head up to the roof, get some fresh air – I can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”

Nodding, Nicole began spraying the white along the waves of the ocean. “See ya’ later.”

“Bye,” Angela called over her shoulder, exiting the store.

Taking the elevator up a floor, Angela went to the rooftop stairs. Reaching the top of the stairwell, she was greeted by the hot afternoon sun, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Stepping outside however, the fresh air quickly tinged sour, the smell of rotten flesh faint in the air; something the group ignored now. Walking over to the small group that were gathered at the roof edge, Angela smiled when she passed Ana, who stayed further back.

“Decided to join the party?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun, letting her binoculars rest around her neck.

Angela smirked as she waved at Kenneth, who sat in his chair with the whiteboard on his lap. “Hey, it's our daily dose of fun.”

The group were currently in the middle of a game of Hollywood Squares again, something they had quickly grown to enjoy and played every single day. As Angela had said, what was more fun than picking off the undead that resembled celebrities?

Rolling her eyes, Ana couldn't help but laugh, despite the morbidity of it all. Smirk still on her face, Angela joined the group of men closer to the edge of the roof, standing behind Steve, Tucker, and Terry. They had their binoculars out, watching Andy on the rooftop of his store.

A shot suddenly rang out, Steve laughing when a body fell to the floor. “Damn, he got it again.”

Grabbing the binoculars from Terry, Angela spotted the crumpled body amongst the shambling figures. “Who was the victim this time?”

“Burt Reynolds – got him right on the head,” Tucker said with a toothy grin, looking out at the crowd. “Alright, who’s next?”

Searching the undead crowd, which had massed thousands over the past two and a half weeks, it was something that Angela had become accustomed to. They were something that still scared Angela half to death, but seeing the crowd from the safety of the mall had desensitised her in a way; knowing she was all the way up on the roof while they were all the way down on the ground had created a false veil of security. 

“Oh, Oh!” Steve gestured with his hand in front of him, trying to think of the celebrity’s name, “Rosie O'Donnell! Tell him to get Rosie.”

In only took Angela a second to spot the zombie Steve was referring to, shaking her head with a snort. “Way too easy, can see her a mile away.”

“Good point,” Tucker mumbled, continuing to search the crowd. “Britney Spears, right in the middle.”

“Ooh, Britney,” Steve murmured, searching for the dead look-a-like, “yeah, she's hot.”

Slowly lowering her binoculars, a look of revulsion washed over Angela’s face when she looked at Steve, who continued to ogle at the dead girl. “You’re disgusting, you know that, right?”

The sick grin only widened, still not taking his eyes away from the crowd. “You only just figured that out, sweetie?”

Before she could think of a snarky reply, Kenneth held up the board for Andy to read, Angela instantly looking through the binoculars. On the rooftop of the gun shop across the street, Andy knelt on the floor, gun resting on the ground and gave a thumbs up. Angela watched intently as he searched the crowd through the scope on his sniper, taking his time. Directing her gaze to the zombie Britney, who’s bottom jaw hung down to her grey, decaying chest, Angela thought this may finally be a tough one for the gunman. A loud gunshot quickly rang out however, the bullet zipping through the air and into the dead girl. Head exploding like a confetti balloon, platinum hair and brain matter projected in a five feet radius, undead Britney’s body dropped to the floor.

“Holy shit!” she laughed, catching Andy’s smug grin before letting the binoculars fall around her neck.

“That was brutal,” Terry said, Tucker nodding in agreement.

“You guys had really rough childhoods, didn't you?” Everyone turned around to Ana, who crossed her arms over her chest, an amused smile forming on her lips. “You know, a little rocky.”

Angela and Tucker snickered between themselves, Kenneth’s shoulders twitching in silent laughter while he wiped the board clean. Steve lowered his binoculars instead, striding over to Ana, who raised her eyebrows at him.

“Hey, sweetheart, lemme' tell you something,” he said with slight seriousness, which was unusual for the man as he stopped inches from her, “you have my permission; if I ever turn into one of those things, do me a favour – blow my fucking head off.”

Without missing a beat, Ana nodded firmly, staring the man straight in the eye. “Oh yeah, you can count on that.”

Jaw dropping wide-open, Angela couldn’t conceal her amusement as she passed Steve, setting her binoculars on the portable table. Following Ana to the stairwell, she let out a breathless giggle, falling into step with the blonde. “You lucky son-of-a-bitch! I wish I had his permission to do that.”

The nurse’s smile faded, a deep sigh coming from her chest. “Yeah, well, as much I look forward to that, I hope the time never comes.”

Reflecting on Ana’s words, Angela’s happiness deflated, knowing what the woman meant. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence fell between them while they walked the rest of the stairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs and entering the second floor of the mall again, they decided to take the escalators down to the bottom floor and headed straight to Hollowed Grounds, deciding they needed some caffeine. They were greeted by Monica and Norma, the older giving the younger a neck massage at a neighbouring table.

“Well, how are you girls doing?” Norma asked cheerfully with a cigarette hanging from her lips, her hands kneading the muscles in Monica’s shoulders.

Ana took a seat at the counter, Angela going behind to prepare two black coffees. “Great, just enjoyed a round of Hollywood Squares.”

The older woman’s expression fell, mouth scrunching disapprovingly. “Oh.”

“What?” Angela laughed, grabbing two mugs from underneath while the coffee maker squealed. “What's wrong with it?”

Head falling forward, letting Norma’s hand’s grab deeper at the muscles, Monica pointed out, “bit twisted, isn't it?”

Ana nodded in agreement, leaning on the counter. “That’s what I said.”

Whilst the four women laughed, Andre quietly crept towards Hallowed Grounds, seemingly appearing from nowhere when he slipped behind the counter discreetly. He made his presence known though, fumbling through the different jars of flavoured syrup. Hearing the jars clinking, Angela turned around, her eyebrows raising in surprise, as it had been the first time in days since she saw him.

“Hi, Andre,” she said, smiling at him as she poured milk in her coffee.

Accepting her coffee from Angela, Ana also turned around to him, greeting the man. “Hey, Andre. How's Luda doing?”

“She's fine,” he bluntly stated, dropping a jar harshly back in the basket. “Hey, where's that lemon stuff?”

“It's all gone, Steve likes to put it in his booze,” Monica grinned, blowing smoke from her freshly lit cigarette.

With a deep sigh of annoyance, Andre shook his head, pushing the tray of flavourings to the side. Angela jerked at the clang of jars, eyebrows furrowing at the troubled man, wondering why he was so tightly wound.

“Try the vanilla stuff,” Monica suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

Picking up the vanilla jar, he twirled it in his hands before abruptly turning on his heel. “Alright.”

“I'd like to drop by and check on her, see how she's doing,” Ana quickly said before he left, still talking about Luda.

“No thanks,” he said with a harsh tone, walking away in the direction of the nursery, “she's fine.”

“You sure?” Norma questioned, uncertainty in her voice.

“Yeah, I'm sure!” he snapped.

Norma's face soured, pausing her hands on Monica’s shoulders and looking at Ana and Angela. “It's okay, hun, we understand.”

Watching Andre angrily stalk away from Hallowed grounds, Angela arched a single questioning brow, turning to face Ana, who stared back at her with the same sceptical expression. “Is it just me or do you think there's definitely something wrong?”

“I don't know,” Ana murmured, still watching Andre in the distance.

“Maybe he's just stressed,” Monica said, hand reaching up to steal the cigarette from Norma’s lips. “I mean, Luda is about to have a baby in a mall in the middle of the apocalypse.”

“All the more reason for me to check up on her,” Ana pointed out, leaning against the countertop. “I’m a nurse.”

“Well, Andre won’t let us near Luda while he’s in that mood,” Angela said, sipping her coffee. “Mention it to Michael later, see what he thinks, then try and talk to Andre again tomorrow once he’s cooled off.”

Ana agreed, crossing an arm across her stomach while Angela leant on the counter, the two drinking their coffee in silence. When Norma finished massaging Monica minutes later, Ana discarded her now empty cup, clapping her hands when she stood.

“We’d better start making dinner,” she said, Angela groaning in response. “We promised Michael we would, give him the night off.” 

Angela sighed dramatically, also pushing her empty coffee cup away, “I suppose.”

Norma and Monica laughed from the other side of the table. Narrowing her eyes, Ana smirked and pointed at the two women. “Oh, don't think you two are getting away with this, we're all cooking tonight.”

Laughter now silenced, Norma glanced down at Monica, taking back the cigarette from her mouth and inhaling a puff. “Well shit, kitten, better get a move on.”

“Damn it,” Monica pouted, standing up from her chair.

 

Sometime later in the main kitchen at the food court, Angela diced chicken breast, throwing the perfect squares of meat into a steaming pan. Behind her, Ana and Norma sliced vegetables while Monica stirred the rice in a pan. As the four of them chatted quietly, Michael appeared in the doorway, a smile on his face as he sniffed the air.

“Something smells good.”

“It should do, we've been bustin' our asses off making it,” Monica said, one hand under her chin and the other lazily twirling the wooden spoon around.

“Excuse me, but you've just been stirring that pan of rice for the past ten minutes,” Angela called over her shoulder, the rest laughing while Monica jokingly mocked her.

“So, what are you girls cooking?” Michael asked, stepping close behind Ana, peering over her shoulder while she handled the knife.

“Chicken stir fry,” she replied, turning her head to smile at him.

Michael grinned back at her. “My favourite.”

Observing the two quite obviously flirt, Angela smiled at them, desperately wanting to just shout ‘just kiss’ like they were middle schoolers but held her tongue. Instead, she dumped the last of the chicken in the pan and sprinkled it with seasoning. Once the food was done, she and Ana began plating it all, Norma and Monica cleaning up while Michael watched. It was then that Terry appeared in the kitchen, licking his lips at the steaming food.

“This smells delicious,” he said, Angela batting his hand away from the plates.

“Hey, you'll get your food soon,” she said, swatting his hand again, unsuccessful as he stole a piece of chicken. “Terry!”

With a grin, he stuffed the meat in his mouth, which turned out to be a bad idea. Beginning to chew quickly, the young man wafted his hands in front of his mouth, sucking air in when the chicken burned. Angela laughed loudly, having no sympathy for him.

“That’ll teach ya’.”

Giving mercy, Michael handed the young man a glass of water, turning to the women. “Okay, who’s taking dinner to the security office?”

Before Angela could answer, Norma spoke first. “Why does someone have to miss out on group dinner? Can’t they just have their food later?”

Michael shrugged. “We could do that, won’t harm them to have dinner late, and we can all have a nice meal together.”

With Ana humming in agreement next to her, Angela bit her tongue, hesitating in volunteering to take the food to the office. Talks of potentially letting CJ out the cell had been shut down quickly by Michael, declaring that he still didn’t trust CJ, despite Angela vouching for him. Ever since, she avoided bringing up the guard around the group, knowing most of them thought how close she had gotten to CJ was strange.

Curly blonde hair suddenly appeared by her side, Monica giving a sly nudge in encouragement while she helped plate the food up. It felt like Monica gave her a confidence boost, Angela standing straight and looking at Michael.

“I’ll take their food.”

Michael shook his head. “Angela, you don’t have to do that, they can wait.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, serving the last plate. “I’d feel guilty making them wait.”

Terry, whose mouth had recovered from the piping hot food, gave a questionable glance. “You sure?”

Angela smiled, firmly nodding her head. “Yeah, totally.”

“Fine, take those three plates at the end, then,” Ana bluntly said, coming up behind Angela to take over. 

Grabbing a tray from a cupboard, Angela let the woman’s cold tone go over her head, catching Monica’s wink as she began loading the three plates on it. Terry followed her, holding the door open for her as she balanced the food, though the two parted ways when he went to the large makeshift table and she carried on. Walking around the corner, she slipped through the private corridor with the metal door. Stepping in, she spotted Bart first since he paced the cell like an animal, while CJ sat on the couch, feet up on the table with his hat covering his eyes.

“Aw, finally,” Bart moaned, lacing his fingers through the mesh and stared hungrily at the food, “I’m so hungry.”

CJ disturbed from his position, adjusting his hat to see Angela setting down the tray on the coffee table. "Well, ain't this a nice surprise.”

“Indeed, it is,” she replied, picking up two of the plates and delivering them to the cell door. Unlocking the small hatch, Bart grabbed his first, looking at the steaming food with slight uncertainty.

“What is it?” he asked with a sniff.

“Chicken stir fry,” Angela replied, handing CJ his plate with a smile, “freshly cooked.”

Bart, who now sat on one of the chairs, held the plate to his face, taking another whiff before tucking in, shoving a forkful in his mouth. Angela locked the hatch and CJ returned to the couch, balancing his plate on his hand while he prodded the food with his fork.

“You cooked this?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, I helped,” she said, sitting cross-legged on her sofa, setting her plate on her lap, “I did the chicken.”

Taking a generous mouthful of the steaming food, letting the flavours settle in his mouth, CJ nodded. “Y'know, this is really good,” he said, taking another mouthful, “especially the chicken.”

Angela smiled coyly, tilting her head down and began eating her meal. “Thanks.”

The room fell silent, besides the animalistic noises coming Bart while he wolfed his food down, shoving many forkfuls of food into his mouth. Angela tended to overlook his way of eating now, though CJ still found it annoying, staring at the young man with a look of distain. Sensing eyes watching him, Bart looked up with cheeks puffed out as rice leaked from the corner of his mouth.

“What?” he asked.

“Fucking animal,” CJ muttered, shaking his head before smirking at Angela. “So, how come you're eating here with us? Did you get the shortest straw?”

“No,” she rolled her eyes, knowing CJ already knew the answer, “I chose to eat here so you could eat now instead of later.”

A short laugh escaped from his lips. “What, they were going to let us starve for the evening?”

“Dramatic much? It only would have been a couple of hours,” she paused, “but I guess I’d felt guilty making you wait.”

While eating her dinner, Angela couldn't help but glance at CJ from time to time, acting like a silly schoolgirl with a crush, but she couldn't help it. He met her gaze the next time she looked at him, Angela holding her stare and offered him a smile. His moustache twitched, the corners of his mouth raising slightly. The tender moment was cut short by the room suddenly plunging into darkness, a panic-stricken Angela screaming and scrambled on the couch, hearing an exclamation from Bart. She felt the plate fall from her lap, hearing it smash into pieces on the floor while she blindly looked around the room. 

Instantly, her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario – those monsters had finally found a way inside. Visions of their rotting corpses running through the mall invaded her head, their cold, dead hands tearing her apart while they ripped her flesh off with their decaying teeth. Heartrate quickened, Angela’s breathing became deep and harsh; she mentally kicked herself for stupidly leaving her gun in her bedside drawer. In the pitch black, CJ could hear Angela's uneven breath, barely making out the outline of her quivering form on the couch.

“Angela!” he shouted, trying to capture her attention.

“CJ?” Head snapping towards the voice, she crawled to the other end of the couch, closest to the cell. “They're in here, aren't they? They're going to kill us all!”

“Holy fuck, we’re gonna’ die!” Bart cried out.

“Shut the fuck up, dipshit, they’re not in here!” CJ snapped at the other man, voice calmer when he called out to Angela again. “Follow my voice, over here.”

Letting a shaky breath out, Angela hands splayed across the couch while she slid her body to the floor. On her knees, she let her hands run across the rough carpet to guide her, crawling past the coffee table.

“That's it, just a bit further,” CJ said when she neared the cell door.

Running her knuckles along the cold, bumpy metal, she stopped when she felt warm fingers, quickly lacing hers with them. Allowing her eyes adjust after a moment, the outlines of CJ’s features became distinct in the dark, the glint of his eyes looking at her. 

“Listen to me, those fuckers aren't in here, okay? It's just the generators,” he explained, trying to calm her down.

“You sure?” she questioned, voice hiccupping.

“I'm positive, the emergency supply will kick in any second,” he murmured, and as if on cue, a faint noise could be heard from the heart of the mall. A hum filled the room, the security monitors flickering back to life, which dimly lit the office with a blue hue.

A large sigh of relief whooshed past her lips, head resting against the cell door. CJ’s fingers brushed Angela’s gently, whispering, “see?”

“What the fuck do we do now?” Bart asked from one of the chairs, legs bouncing anxiously.

“No one in this place except the two of us know where the generators are and how to fix them,” CJ pointed out, “so I'd say in about a minute or two, they’ll be here asking for our help.”

Angela raised her head from the mesh, eyes looking up at the man. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Thirty seconds later, Angela heard multiple footsteps from the hallway, becoming louder as they neared the office. A smirk appeared on CJ’s lips, though despite his cocky exterior, he lightly grazed Angela's hands.

“See, what did I tell you?”

The door opened, a beam of light flashing in Angela's eyes causing her to squint, though she faintly made out two large silhouettes. Michael and Terry stepped in the office, faces full of concern when they spotted the woman couched on the floor.

“You okay?” Terry asked.

Angela nodded her head. “Yeah, I’m fine, just scared me.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a power out,” Michael said, focusing his flashlight on CJ and Bart, “which we need you two to help us out with.”

CJ’s grin widened as he stared at Michael, clucking his tongue, “fine, just let us out then.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.
> 
> Sorry for not updating for a month, things just got a bit hectic recently! I have the last chapter finished for weeks now, it's just finding the time to upload the rest of the chapters now. I really want to get this story out to you all, so I'm going to try to post daily from today. I'm really excited to finally complete this story soon, so hope you're all still here for the end, we have seven chapters left! :)

Angela shivered stepping down the cold, concrete stairway, Michael close beside her, the two of them following CJ and Bart. The guards told Michael the generators were in the parking garage beneath the mall, promising to show him where they were, with hope they could fix them and get the power back on in the mall.

“Can’t believe we can’t see the security cameras for the parking garage, we don’t know what’s down here,” Angela muttered, ignoring the bumps raising along her bare skin; she wished she had thought to grab a jacket on the way down.

“I told ya’, there’s a separate security office in the garage for the parking attendant,” CJ said.

“And what the hell happened to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We radioed down to tell him to close the shutters when everything went to shit; he did it but didn’t hear from him again, so we just locked the doors.”

Feeling the pit of her stomach becoming heavy, Angela’s expression creased, Michael sharing the same concerned look. Deeply sighing, the woman sarcastically commented, “well, that’s reassuring.”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the small corridor dim and grey, they faced a set of double doors at the end. A thick set of chains looped through and around the handles tightly, securing the doors from letting anything in.

“That's it,” CJ said, shining his light on the doors, “it's in employee parking level 3 – they're in a pen near the parking shuttles.”

Angela stopped on the stairs while Michael walked quietly towards the doors, inspecting through the narrow windows closely. However, Bart turned around and began to go back up the steps, CJ doing the same, reaching out for Angela to follow. Letting him grab elbow, she instead tugged him back, frowning at him.

“Where are you going?”

Michael quickly spun around, noticing the men trying to slip away. “Wait a minute, you're coming too.”

The two guards stopped, CJ giving a small snort. “No, I'm not. I said I'd tell you where the generators are, not show you.”

Shrugging her arm from his grasp, Angela sighed, leaning against the railing of the stairs, “CJ…”

“Did you think I'd just leave you two up there?” Michael asked, shining the flashlight in their faces. “You come with me or go back in the cell.”

CJ shook his head, looking at Angela for support, though she held the same hard expression as Michael. Turning to Bart, two men stared at each other for a few seconds, silently communicating before CJ walked back down the stairs.

“All right,” he sighed, also raising his flashlight to shine in Michael's face, “but I ain't going anywhere without a gun.”

Michael smiled, though with no amusement, bluntly stating, “you're not getting a gun.”

“Trust,” he suddenly said, turning around to look at Angela, “the primary ingredient in any relationship.”

Recalling that conversation she had with CJ, her face softened while she stared at the man. Sharp, brown eyes held soft, green ones, breaking her will before she sighed, walking down the steps to stand beside CJ. “Maybe we should give him a weapon, to protect themselves at least.”

Narrowing his eyes, Michael glared at the guard, glancing down at the shotgun he borrowed from Tucker in his hands. Looking around the hallway, a small grin took his face, turning his gun to use the butt and smashing a red box that hung on the wall. Careful of the glass, Michael pulled a shiny red axe from it, tossing it to CJ, who caught it with one hand.

“Have at ‘em, cowboy,” Michael muttered, hiding his smirk.

Eyebrows pulling together, CJ glowered down at the weapon in his hand before looking at Angela, who shrugged innocently.

“What, at least you've got a weapon now,” she whispered to him as she passed him, lips flickering upwards faintly.

“Asshole,” he mumbled, eyes on Michael while gesturing to the doors. “Bart, get the chains.”

The younger man hesitated with a grunt, stepping off the stairs and kneeling by the door to unlock the chains. A sharp cock of a shotgun echoed over the quiet clinks of metal, the small group jumping at the harsh noise. Kenneth appeared from behind the corner, his own shotgun in hand as he descended the stairs slowly, passing Angela with a nod.

“You ready to roll?” he asked, holding his weapon to his chest when Michael shined his light at him.

“You comin' with us?” Michael questioned with raised brows.

“No, you comin' with me,” Kenneth replied with a sense of authority in his deep voice, taking on his role as a police officer, “I've done this before.”

No one argued, quite glad they had another person in their ranks. While Bart continued to find the key for the chains, Angela took the opportunity to check the ammunition in her gun, making sure the safety was off as well. Hearing the click of her gun, CJ appeared in front of her, eyes looking down at it.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure it’s loaded,” she answered, aiming it down by her side when she was ready.

Remaining quiet, CJ stared at her, a flurry of emotions crossing his face in a few seconds. Finally, he settled with anger, brows coming low over his cold eyes and mouth turning into a snarl.

“Wait a fucking second,” he said, snapping his fiery gaze to Michael, “she’s coming with us?”

“What do you think I'm doing down here?”

“I thought you were just gonna’ keep watch or something by the door,” he hissed, glaring back at Michael, “she’s not coming with us.”

“Hey, I think I can make my own decisions,” she said sharply.

“Well,” Michael began, looking between Angela and CJ, “she's an okay-shot with a gun and fast on her feet, we can use all the manpower we need.”

“Michael’s right,” Angela said, annoyed with having to defend her decision, “Andre won’t leave Luda’s side and Terry’s keeping guard upstairs, so I’m coming down here.”

“No way!” CJ said loudly, nearly bumping his chest with Angela. “There's no fucking way you're coming, it's too dangerous.”

“Why the hell are we going then?” Bart asked, roughly twisting the key in the lock.

Feeling anger quickly bubble inside her, she stood on the tips of her toes to get in CJ’s face, a finger jabbing in his chest. “Excuse me, but you didn’t seem too fucking concerned for my safety when you waved a gun in my face.”

Angela instantly regretted the words that left her mouth. CJ’s expression softened, his eyebrows lifting upwards and the creases in the outer corners of his eyes smoothing. His lips flicked down, mouth opening slightly, her words obviously hurting him deeply. Guilt replacing her anger, she felt her chest tighten while he stared at her; she knew he was only looking out for her – caring for her. Before she could say anything, Kenneth stepped forward in the middle of the group.

“If Angela says she’s coming, she’s coming,” he gruffly said, giving Angela an appreciating nod, who returned one as well, “so, everybody shut up and get ready.”

The sudden clanging of metal caught their attention, Bart standing up with the set of chains in his hands. Michael and Kenneth assumed their position in front of the doors, Angela following, until she felt a rough hand grip her upper arm. A body brushed against her and she expected harsh words – she deserved it – but instead felt a pair of lips near her ear.

“You stay next to me, okay?”

Stealing a glance up at him, she noticed his face seemed cool and hard, but felt his protective presence and was grateful for it. Bringing her fingers up to graze his hand, she lent her body against his briefly, confirming with a nod of her head. Angela realised this was the most physical contact they’ve had, and it abruptly ended when Kenneth spoke.

“Know how to use that?”

Michael rotated the shotgun in his hand, pointing to the end of the barrel. “This one’s the dangerous end, right?”

Kenneth gripped the gun, swiftly flipping the safety off before letting go. “Now it is.”

“Easy mistake,” Angela commented when Michael took the gun back, both sharing a small chuckle.

Their laughter quickly died down, turning their attention to the doors and the possible danger that lied beyond them. Bart rested a lamp on his shoulder, CJ giving Angela his flashlight to hold above her handgun so he could wield the axe in both hands. Michael and Kenneth both held their shotguns aimed and ready, flashlights perched underneath them; Michael moved out the way while the latter counted under his breath, kicking the doors open with his heavy boot. Rats scurried into the shadows, the cop quickly stepping through the threshold to check the surrounding area. CJ quietly followed, motioning for Angela to stick behind him, who raised her gun when she entered the dark parking garage, the back-up generators only supplying minimal lighting. Michael let Bart through before closing the doors, making sure nothing could get out.

The group fell into a formation as they began to venture into the darkness, Kenneth and CJ establishing the front, Angela in the middle while Bart and Michael took the rear. It was deathly silent, which only made Angela’s heartbeat more prominent in her ears, her breath short and shallow.

CJ nodded his head towards a sign. “This is level one, we gotta' walk down to three.”

Three levels didn’t sound much, but in the black void that consumed the garage with no idea what lurked on each floor, every step plunged them into deeper danger. Angela her ears perked for any sounds that disturbed the eerie silence, eyes straining to search every nook of the garage, their shadows following them. The group halted when Kenneth flashed his light on a wall ahead of them, revealing dried blood smeared across it. Forcefully swallowing the lump in her throat, she ignored the frightening thoughts that invaded her head and focused on the task at hand. Kenneth followed the blood trail, cautiously peering around a podium, Angela stepping closer to CJ as the group tightened together.

Moving farther into the garage, she focused the beam of her flashlight on a sign that read ‘2C.’ Releasing a tremulous breath, she realised they were halfway down, though her nerves felt even more on edge and the hairs stood on the back of her neck, the air cold against her skin; she became aware of the smell of death that grew stronger the more they walked.

A sudden noise in the distance echoed through the large garage, everyone in the group pausing momentarily. Bart spun to shine the lamp behind them, Angela and Kenneth moving their flashlights rapidly, checking each end of the garage. Michael remained still, trying to locate where the sound came from, until another bang came from a different direction than the last. Angela’s breath caught in her throat, feeling CJ’s back press against hers, her heart pounded against her ribcage.

“What the fuck was that?” Bart asked loudly, shining his light wildly into the darkness. “I just saw something!”

“Be quiet!” she hissed, eyes darting to various areas of the garage.

“You didn't see shit, Bart, shut the fuck up,” CJ muttered, but even Angela could hear the panic wavering through his voice.

A shadow suddenly ran through Angela’s beam of light, startling a gasp from her, the group turning in that direction. Just as Kenneth took a step forward, they heard something run behind them, everyone quickly turning around again. Tension thick in the air, panicked breaths began filling the silence. Angela’s finger quivered on the trigger of her gun, CJ raising his axe over his shoulder in anticipation, catching the shadow coming closer.

“Aw shit, here it comes,” Bart panicked, hearing a panting come towards them.

Angela could only see glimpses of the shadow since it was too fast to follow, struggling to aim her gun at it. Kenneth stood firm, Michael coming up next to him, both aiming their shotguns when the shadow disappeared behind a podium. Seconds later, a small black and white sheep dog appeared from behind it, whimpering as it stared at the group with big brown eyes. The group was stunned, Angela heaving a sigh of relief, Bart shaking his head while muttering.

“Jesus Christ.”

“It's a fuckin' dog,” CJ breathed out in disbelief.

Everyone visibly relaxed, shoulder’s slumping and lowering their weapons. Angela knelt on one knee, letting her gun rest at her side while coaxing the dog over with her other hand. The timid animal stayed hidden for a moment before trotting over to her, Angela smiling when he licked her hand, begging for attention. Michael bent down next to her, gently examining the dog to make sure he wasn't injured. Patting her knee and cooing, the dog jumped on her, burying his head into her chest.

“He's scared,” she said, stroking the whimpering dog, feeling ribs slightly protruding, “he must have been down here all this time, poor thing.”

“Well, at least we know nothing's down here - it would've eaten him,” Michael said, stroking the dogs back.

“See,” Bart said to CJ, “I told you I saw something.”

Momentarily enjoying the affection, the dog’s ears suddenly stood on top of its head, cocking it to the side. It jumped off Angela, spinning in a circle and began to bark madly, Michael questioning his sudden behavioural change, “what's wrong, boy?”

Bart groaned, sneering at the animal, “there's nothing wrong, that dog's just fucked up.”

The dog continued to bark, Angela turning to glare at Bart, faltering when something moved above him. Dangling from the ceiling was a zombie, missing its legs from the thighs as it swung along a pipe with its hands, moving quick. A terrified scream ripped from her chest when the infected monster let go, dropping its rotting body on Bart’s back, arms wrapping around him and sinking black teeth into his neck. Bart’s yells echoed through the garage, desperately tried to throw the thing off him, the lamp shattering on the ground while Angela crawled backwards in panic.

Instantly, Michael fired a shot, only to miss since Bart began blindly spinning in circles and instead set off a sprinkler above. Using all his strength, he finally flung the zombie off him, crying out to the group as he clamped a hand over the gaping wound, blood seeping through his fingers. Kenneth aimed his gun at the infected, who growled while it chewed on the chunk of flesh in its mouth, but hesitated when more screams followed, multiple shadows running out from the darkness and heading straight for them.

“RUN!” Michael shouted, eyes wide with fear.

A hand gripped Angela’s shirt and CJ hauled her to her feet, the dim lights revealed a dozen more of those things running towards them. They sprinted down to the next level as the things flanked them from every side, their anguished howls becoming louder, Bart crying while he trailed behind the group.

“CJ, wait up!”

Daring to look behind, Angela seen the tears streaming down his frightened face as tried to keep up, the blood now pouring down onto his chest. Just behind him, the crowd of undead closed in on them. Raising her gun, she attempted shooting at the crowd, but CJ tugged on her shirt, instead forcing her to run faster.

“There, in the pens!” he shouted, gesturing to the chain-linked cage further ahead.

Kenneth and Michael took lead, running to the pen. Pushing her along once more, CJ disappeared from Angela’s side, stopping when Bart called his name once more. Hearing a pained scream from behind, Angela also stopped and turned around, wishing she hadn’t when she witnessed one of those things grab Bart. Despair engulfed him as more of them piled on him, dragging him to the floor while they tore into his flesh, gurgling a scream. Eyes welling-up, she watched while a distraught CJ lingered for a second, only running again when the rest of the infected still followed.

“Go!” he hissed, pulling Angela along with him.

Shooting the lock off the gate, Kenneth let Michael inside the pen, shouting for CJ and Angela to hurry while holding it open for them. Both made it inside, barely escaping the grasps of the undead, one stopping Michael and Kenneth closing the gates by trying to force them open. Wielding his axe, CJ hit it in the face, then helping Kenneth keep the gates closed. This didn’t hinder the monsters, some jumping on the fences, their hunger for flesh spurning them on. Michael blasted one in the stomach before throwing his shotgun at CJ when he found a lock.

“CJ!”

Catching the weapon, he pumped it and quickly shot another one, looking at Angela next to him. “Angela, start shootin'!” he yelled, him and Kenneth shooting another two while Michael locked the gates.

Raising her trembling hands, she aimed her gun blindly at the small crowd and fired, hitting one in the shoulder. More experienced with their weapons, CJ and Kenneth delivered fatal headshots to infected scaling the fences, while Angela maintained body shots, though there seemed to be more surrounding them. 

“I’m out!” Kenneth shouted, pulling more shells from his hip pouch to reload.

One of the infected climbed to the top of the fence, CJ quickly shooting it, though when it fell it pulled the chain link mesh with it. With now an exposed entrance, the crazed monsters clawed at each other to climb through, CJ and Angela firing shots at them.

“They’re gonna’ get through!” Angela yelled, firing one more shot before her gun clicked – empty. “Shit, I’m out!” 

Looking at Michael with pure panic, who stood ready to swing the axe, they realised they were overpowered. Frantically looking around the pen, trying to find anything that will help them, Michael’s eyes landed on a gas pump. Dropping the axe, he snatched the hose from its cradle, a songful ‘ding’ ringing out through the gunshots and growls, Michael spraying the dark, brown liquid on the fence and infected, who were kept at bay by CJ and Kenneth. 

Discarding the pump, Michael ran a hand over his empty pockets before looking up. “CJ, matches!”

Digging through his pockets, CJ pulled his lighter out, flicking it on before hurling it into the puddle of gas. In a matter of seconds, the entire fence erupted with blazing fire, spreading to the zombies surrounding it. A wave of heat hit Angela, the force knocking her backwards into CJ’s arms, who caught her and the group stumbled away from the flames. They watched the monsters burn, the fireball knocking them away from the fence and stopping them from climbing through. Once shrieked with rage, unbothered by the flames covering its body as it hurled itself against the metal, teeth gnashing determinedly. Angela cringed when its skin began to bubble, turning her head into CJ’s shoulder when the flesh slowly melted off.

The fire kept the undead beings out the pen but took its time killing them; truly a sight straight from a horror film. A normal human would have succumbed to the flames after thirty seconds, but the infected were still up and fighting minutes later. Muscle and bones became exposed, the flames eating through them. Angela thought she would smell nothing worse than rotting flesh under the sun, however the smell of burning rotting flesh was threatening her stomach bile to come up.

After an agonising five minutes, the final body dropped to the floor, practically a skeleton as the flames simmered.

Looking at the black, crisp corpses, the smell so overwhelming, Angela staggered away gagging, hurling her stomach contents on the floor. Kenneth approached the fence slowly, using his shotgun to check the bodies while Michael and CJ were stupefied to the spot.

“That’s all of them,” he spoke, the first one to say anything, using the butt of his gun to snap the melted lock.

Throat burning, Angela coughed and wiped her mouth, taking in a deep breath. “Let’s fix these generators and get the hell out of here.”

Seemingly recovering his senses, Michael wiped a hand over his face, turning to the man next to him, “CJ?” Hearing his name, he tore his eyes away from the smoking corpses, looking at Michael. “Generators?”

“Yeah, sure…”

Giving a dazed nod, he opened the large metal stand located at the back of the pen, resetting the switches that had tripped out. Instantly, the generator roared to life, illuminating the garage with bright, white lights.

“Thanks, CJ,” Michael said when the man closed the generator door, “seriously, we’d have been dead without you.”

Offering a small nod, CJ paused, exhaling while staring at the ground. Before Angela could check he was okay, he grabbed a plastic tarp from the floor and stalked out the caged pen, disappearing around the corner. The other three shared a confused look, before the realisation hit Angela.

“Oh, God, Bart.”

Around the corner, they found CJ knelt on one knee in front of Bart’s body, which had been covered by the blue sheet. Kenneth and Michael stopped, letting Angela slowly approach the grieving man. Crouching down by his side, she tentatively reached a hand out to his shoulder, CJ accepting it by firmly grabbing it, squeezing tightly.

They stood after a minute of silence, Michael clearing his throat and placing a hand on CJ’s neck. “We’ll bring him upstairs after we’ve checked on everyone.”

“Yeah,” CJ whispered, Angela running a thumb over his knuckles comfortingly. 

Whimpering caught the groups attention, the black and white dog from before appearing from under a car, tilting its head curiously.

“Hey, it's okay,” Michael coaxed the dog out, stroking it between the ears when it came running over. “He must have followed us, probably scared out of his mind.”

“Come on, we better head back,” Kenneth said, walking up the ramp, Michael and the dog following.

CJ looked at the tarp once more, exhaling deeply before walking away with Angela. Reaching the top of the ramp, the group abruptly stopped when they saw the legless infected pulling itself towards them, snarling viciously as it spotted them. Before Kenneth could raise his gun, CJ pushed past everyone, pumping his shotgun as he marched towards the thing. Putting the barrel in its mouth and pulling the trigger, its head disintegrated instantly, brain matter and skull exploding everywhere. Calmly, CJ returned to the group, everyone remaining silent and they continued.

Kenneth locked and chained the double doors tightly – they were certain nothing was down there now, but they would complete another sweep of the area later when they went back for Bart. Angela and CJ walked alongside each other tracing back up the stairs, the dog behind them as they followed Kenneth and Michael. CJ held his head low when Angela glanced at him, his hat covering his eyes and mouth in a tight line; she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

The soft lights and low music were comforting when they entered the mall again. However, the group were surprised to find the dining table in the heart of the mall deserted, food still half-eaten. Walking towards Hallowed Grounds, which was also empty, Michael looked around the area.

“Where is everyone?”

Kenneth stopped at the end of the table, picking up a chair that had been haphazardly turned on its side on the floor. Feeling an uneasy ball settle in her stomach, Angela examined the table carefully, noticing Monica’s cigarette still lit in the ashtray, Ana’s jacket discarded on the floor.

“Something's not right,” she said, looking up towards the three men, “they left here in a rush.”

“Ana!” Michael suddenly shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Where the hell could they be?” CJ questioned Angela.

“Could they be in the nursery?” Kenneth suggested.

Angela's eyes widened, looking at Michael panicked. “What if Luda's in labour?”

“Come on,” he said, running in the direction of the nursery.

Angela’s mind raced with countless of thoughts as they ran; if Luda had gone into labour, she desperately hoped there were no complications, they weren’t equipped to deal with that. Since she was a nurse, Ana was there only hope in delivering the baby safely, even though she admitted she hardly ever dealt with delivering babies in the hospital. No one knew what Andre would do if anything happened to the baby.

Reaching the nursery, they slowed down outside the open doors when they heard faint cries drifting out, the uneasy feeling growing in Angela’s gut when she entered first. Heart racing, she pushed past the multiple ripped sheets that hung through the store, meeting with a distraught Tucker and solemn Steve, the scene just behind them explaining their sadness. Angela’s breath hitched in her throat, a croak barely escaping when she saw Norma lying in a pool of her own blood, gunshot wounds in her stomach. Cradling the older woman’s head, Monica sobbed loudly while Nicole squeezed the dead woman’s hand, tears running down her face. Glen knelt by Norma’s body, head in his hands as he silently cried.

“No, no…” Angela whispered, voice cracking, her hands covering her mouth, “w-what happened-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Kenneth took a step forward, his eyes wide while his mouth hung low. “Oh, my God.”

Taking her eyes away from Norma, Angela saw Terry hold Ana while she cried. Taking a few steps closer, she suddenly gasped, gripping on a clothes rack when her knees went weak.

Bound to the bed laid Luda's dead body, a bullet hole through her head. Her wrists, knees, and ankles were strapped down with leather straps and towels, a similar makeshift gag shoved in her mouth – her usual olive skin was a deathly pale, grey colour, her veins black and protruding, lifeless white eyes staring up at the ceiling; she had been infected. The sheets in between Luda’s legs were splattered with clotted, crimson blood. On the foot of the bed, Andre's body slumped over Luda's legs, glossy eyes open but not moving. Bullet wounds also covered his chest, his black shirt wet with blood, his gun hung from one hand, a bundle of pink sheets in the other. Angela instantly turned away when she saw the blood dripping from the sheets, realising it was the baby.

Ana, who was now being comforted by Michael, looked at her with swollen, red eyes, shaking her head. “I had to, Angela, I had to do it… it had already turned.”

Feeling the bile rising back up in her chest, the room began spinning. CJ quickly caught her when her knees gave out completely, gently wrapping his arms around her and she gripped his shirt tightly. Her breathing quivered, tears rolling down her cheeks and her cries turned into uncontrollable sobbing, burying her head in the crook of CJ’s neck.

“Why? Why did they have to die?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

A warm glow from the sunrise flooded through the windows, casting a golden hue in the mall. Too early for the music to play through the speakers, it was silent, even the undead crowd surrounding the outer walls seemed quieter. Grief loomed in the air, sadness chilling deep in everyone’s bones. In front of Hallowed Grounds, Ana and Terry spread a large sheet over five bodies; Bart’s remains were wrapped in the tarp, Michael and Kenneth retrieving them earlier, like they promised CJ. Next to him laid Norma, flowers in her arms and one last cigarette in her mouth, curtesy of Monica. Finally, Luda and Andre’s bodies were together, their baby nestled between them.

When the sheet settled, revealing the little mound, Angela couldn’t bear to look, turning her head away with wet eyes. A large hand caressed her shoulder tenderly, Angela looking above her to meet CJ’s solemn gaze. While he sat on a chair, she curled at his feet on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket with her back resting against his legs and her head on his knees. Eyes heavy, she was exhausted like everyone else, since no one had slept a wink – not after what had happened.

Terry suddenly sighed, breaking the silence, adjusting the sheet. “Somebody should say something.”

“Yeah,” Ana agreed, looking around at the group, “Glen?”

The elder man quickly shook his head with a blunt, “no.”

“You worked in the church,” Ana stated, crossing her arms as everyone directed their attention to the man.

“I played the organ,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

“C’mon,” CJ said, hands clasped together, face rough, “you must have heard the priest say something about life and death.”

“It was a job – I don't believe in God,” he replied with a shake of his head, glancing at the bodies with a pause before walking away, “I don't see how anyone could.”

Everyone’s gaze rested on the bodies under the sheets again, reflecting on Glen’s words with brief silence before Ana repeated Terry’s words.

“Somebody should say something.”

“There's nothin' to say.”

Angela jumped at Kenneth’s deep voice when he walked towards the bodies while doing the Sign of the Cross. “Been to a lot of funerals, folded the flag and given it to a lot of wives and fathers and kids. I told them how sorry I was, but that's not what I was really feeling. In the back of my mind, I was always saying 'better them than me',” his voice wavered slightly, stopping to face the group, “but I don't believe that now, because now I realise that there are some things worse than death, and one of them is sitting here waiting to die.”

Ana stared at Kenneth, eyes hard and face stony. “I don't wanna' die here.” She then turned to look at Michael, who raised his head meekly, Ana waiting for him to say something.

“What?” Angela asked with a voice hoarse from crying, looked between the two, prompting Michael as he hesitated. “What is it?”

Looking round the group, he sat up straighter, clearing his throat. “I saw a couple of busses in the garage – we could fix them up, we could reinforce them, then get us far from here as possible.”

Remembering back to the garage, trying to push past the fear and images of burning bodies, Angela thought back to when the generator kicked back in; she had noticed two large shuttle busses parked behind the pen, big enough to fit everyone. She couldn’t imagine how they would hold up against the thousands of undead outside though.

“And then what?” Tucker asked, clearly uncertain of the idea, like the rest of the group.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Steve suddenly said from behind the counter at the coffee bar, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “While we're at it, why don't we swing by the marina and hop in my boat and take it for a pleasure cruise, ya' jackasses!” he cackled, making a cup of coffee.

Shaking her head at his attitude, Angela felt CJ tense angrily while Monica sneered at his attitude.

“Wait a minute, that's a good idea,” Ana said, ignoring Steve’s laughter, “there's islands out in those lakes. There's not a lot of people on them.”

“I was kidding,” he mumbled.

Michael suddenly stood from his chair, eyes far away, seemingly lost in thought. “How far is the marina?”

“My God!” Steve laughed, though when he realised Michael and Ana weren’t joking, his face dropped, “you're serious?”

“I think it's a damned good idea,” Michael said, looking at everyone else. “How 'bout the rest of you? Kenneth?”

To Angela's surprise, the cop nodded, agreeing with the plan. “Yeah, it's a good idea,” he said, adding, “we have to pick up Andy, he's part of the group.”

“Wait, hadn't we better talk this through more?” Angela questioned warily, “we haven’t even got a solid plan.”

“We’ve got a plan right here,” Michael said, raising his arms, voice becoming excited, “we fix these buses up real tough, I mean with barriers and metal bars and barbed wire. We round up as much supplies as we can and when we’re ready, we just ram our way through that crowd and make it to the marina. We get on that boat and get the hell away from this outbreak as far as we can.”

“Excuse me,” CJ said once Michael had finished explaining his plan, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “not to shit on anyone's riff here but let me see if I grasp this concept, okay? You're suggesting that we take some fucking parking shuttles and reinforce them with some aluminium siding, and then just head on over to the gun store, watch our good friend Andy play some cowboy movie 'jump-on-the-covered-wagon' bullshit. Then, we're gonna' drive across a ruined city through a welcome committee of a few hundred thousand dead cannibals, so that we can sail off into the sunset on this fuckin' assholes boat?” Steve raised his cup with a pleasant smile, “and head for some island for all we know doesn't even exist?”

If not for the seriousness of the situation, Angela would have laughed at CJ’s anecdote, sounding like something from a cheesy, low-budget film. The plan was far-fetched and very much crazy, but then what other options did they have? Stay in the mall until their timely deaths?

Kenneth was the first to reply to CJ’s question. “Yeah.”

Tucker shrugged, agreeing, “pretty much, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Michael also said, standing next to Ana, who nodded.

“Okay,” CJ sighed after a moment, leaning back in his chair, “I'm in.”

“Angela?” Michael questioned.

Feeling multiple eyes on her, she frowned as she thought over the plan again, looking up at CJ. “You're serious about this?”

Nodding his head, he rubbed her shoulder soothingly. Looking back at the group and then the bodies under the sheet, she sighed thoughtfully – she didn't want to die in the mall, not like how they died. She didn't want to end up being a meal for the undead, lying under a sheet, and she didn’t want to wait the rest of her days in the mall, succumbing to starvation when supplies run out. All she wanted was safety, but she also wanted freedom, so maybe this plan could give her that.

“Fine, I'm in.”

Steve laughed with a hint of panic, looking cautiously at the group. “You're all fucking crazy, you know that?”

“You got a better plan?” Ana snapped, “besides sitting around and drinking?”

“Look, this is the only plan we got,” Michael said before turning to the rest of the group, “what about the rest of you? Is everyone in?”

Terry stepped forward with a firm nod, “I'm in.”

Nicole stood next to him, grabbing his hand, “me too."

The dog from the garage, which the girl had taken a shine to, sat up along with them, head held high.

Michael nodded, then turning towards Glen and Monica. “And you two?”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Glen thought momentarily before sighing, “okay.”

Monica sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself, voice dry when she spoke, “sure, what else have we got to lose?” She glanced towards Angela, a small smile ghosting her lips.

With confirmation from everyone, Michael turned to Steve, who shook his head in disbelief. “Fine, okay, I'm in,” he sighed, sipping his coffee, “but if I get eaten by those fucking things...”

“So, it’s settled then,” Michael said, pausing and looking down at the bodies. He seemed to have forgotten about the current situation, becoming too excited with his plan, and sighed deeply. “Look, guys, it's been a long and tough night for everyone. Maybe we should all get some sleep, at least for a few hours. Then tomorrow, we can start planning, see where we can start.”

“What about...” Ana trailed off, gesturing to the large sheet on the floor.

"Kenneth and I will take care of them," Michael said, the other agreeing.

Everyone started to disperse, giving last glances to the bodies, silent goodbyes. Standing from the chair, CJ helped Angela to her feet, the woman yawning while stretching her back. Wrapping the blanket around her, the two walked to Metropolis, CJ following Angela to her bed in the corner.

“That was one hell of a night,” she murmured, kicking her shoes off.

“You can say that again,” he said, pushing a cushioned armchair next to her bed.

Collapsing on her bed, her body felt heavy as she crawled under the comfort of the duvet, handing CJ the blanket as he sat down. Head hitting the pillow, she could feel her lids aching to close, but she forced them open to stare up at the man beside her, who tried to find a comfortable position in the armchair.

“You know, you didn't have to come back here with me, if you didn’t want to.”

“Where else could I go, back to the cell?” he replied, trying to be humorous but swallowed thickly. “Anyway, I don't think anyone else would want me, especially Terry.”

Angela grimaced, leaning up on one elbow. “That's not true,”

He huffed, taking his hat off his head. “After the way I acted?”

“That's in the past now,” she said, “what happened is forgotten about. If it wasn’t for you, we could’ve died down there last night – you’ve proven how helpful and trustworthy you really are. Yeah, you were an asshole those first few days, but I’ve learnt that not everyone reacts the ‘right way’ in the middle of an outbreak.”

She paused, looking him in the eyes. “After what happened last night, the only thing that matters now is everyone getting out here alive.”

Digesting Angela’s words, he leant back in the chair, looking down at his lap. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Taking her weight off her elbow, she turned on her back, staring at the ceiling with a tired sigh. Mind wandering back to the previous night, Bart’s dying screams suddenly flooded her, his terrified face swarmed by rotting hands and decaying bodies. Breathing through her nose, she closed her eyes to rid the image, whispering, “I'm sorry about Bart. I know he wasn't the smartest kid, but he didn't deserve to die, not like that.”

When the silence lingered, Angela opened her eyes to look at CJ, his gaze far away with an unreadable expression. She wondered whether she hit a nerve, bringing Bart up too soon, but then he looked at her, nodding his head. 

“Thanks, I just wished I had put him out of his misery when he was being...”

When he trailed off, not bringing himself to finish that sentence, she placed her hand on his knee. “You can't think about that; it would have been over quickly – he's in a better place now.”

“I guess you're right,” he said, placing his hand over hers.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, CJ soothingly rubbing her hand with his thumb. Angela's eyelids began to droop, head daring to fall into the pillow. Trying to keep awake, she attempted sitting up, but a hand gently pushed her back down on the bed.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, running his fingers through her hair, “God knows we're going to be busy tomorrow.”

Angela was slightly surprised by CJ’s affection, never experiencing being this close to him before. The hand tender against her skin was comforting, deciding she liked this side of him. Yawning widely, she drew her hands under her pillow, snuggling into it and finally closing her eyes, murmuring, “good point.”

It only took Angela a matter of seconds to drift into a deep sleep, her body exhausted, but knowing she had CJ by her side helped her rest easier. For the rest of the morning, she slept peacefully, neither plagued by dreams or nightmares. When she next woke up, a hot coffee and sandwich lay on her bedside table, CJ sipping on his drink while reading a book.

“Am I dreaming?” she yawned, rubbing her eyes, “or are you reading an actual book?”

The corners of his mouth flickered, setting down ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’. “I remembered you reading this, saying it’s a good story,” he took a sip of coffee, “it’s not.”

Angela scoffed, accepting her drink from him as she sat up. “You’ve only read like two chapters.”

“Six, actually; I’m a fast reader.”

“I thought you didn’t read?” she questioned.

“I never said I didn’t read, I just don’t like ‘romance’ books,” he said, “they’re all full of shit.”

For the next couple of minutes, they ate their food in silence, enjoying each other’s company; Angela wasn’t used to spending time with CJ without the bars of the cell in between them in the dingy security office. Despite the tragic circumstances of the night before, she was finally glad to have him out of the cell and by her side.

Finishing his coffee, he suddenly cleared his throat. “I spoke to Michael when I went to get us some food,” continuing when Angela hummed in interest, “some of us are gonna’ go down and clear out the bodies from the garage, get the place cleaned out. Then we’ll bring the busses up to level one ready for tomorrow.”

“Hm, well as wonderful as that sounds, I think I’ll sit this one out,” she cringed, “the thought of that smell makes me sick.”

“So far he’s rounded up me, Kenneth, and Terry – he’s going to ask to the others, no doubt Steve will jump at the chance of getting his hands dirty,” CJ said, Angela laughing quietly at the joke. “I spoke to Terry, y’know, one on one.”

Angela stopped mid-bite, setting her food down and towards him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I thought about what you said before, making amends and all that. So, after I spoke to Michael, I saw Terry at the coffee bar,” he said, gesturing to the coffees on the bedside table.

“And?” she said, urging him to continue.

“He was surprised, but he heard me out; I apologised for what I did and my shitty behaviour, and he accepted it,” he said, sighing while folding his arms. “Kid doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

“He’s a sweet boy,” Angela smiled, her bright gaze lingering on him “which is why I’m glad you done that.”

CJ nodded, nestling back into the chair. “Me too.”

 

Stepping into the cool parking garage, a shiver ran up Angela’s spine. Looking around, flashbacks from the previous night clouded her vision, a stark contrast to the brightly lit area she stood in. A strong smell of bleach stung her nose, whiffs of blood and burnt flesh still present underneath it. The group of volunteers had spent the afternoon clearing out the bodies, throwing down industrial cleaner on the floors and walls to rid the smells and putrid leftovers.

“We’ll give it another clean tomorrow,” Ana said, noticing Angela’s expression when she stood next to her, “once these buses are up here.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Angela paused, looking around, “weird, to be back down here.”

Ana nodded, their attention turning to the low rumble of an engine coming closer. Appearing from around the corner, a dark blue shuttle bus drove up the ramp, the large vehicle coming to the first level. Tucker leant out from the door, one hand holding on to the roof while pointing for Michael to slow the bus with the other. Parking it, Michael cut the engine, Tucker slapping the side as he jumped out excitedly.

“She drives like a beauty!”

“What do you think?” Ana asked Michael when he stepped off.

“Yeah, it’s great; once we gut it out and reinforce the outside, should be perfect,” he said.

“Where’s the other one?” Angela asked.

He wiped his brow, beginning to walk down to the lower level. “We’re having some trouble starting it, it’s been unused for over two weeks – possibly longer – so the battery could be dead.”

They follow Michael down to third level, the second bus coming into view near the pens. The hood popped, CJ and Kenneth stood in front of the bus, parked next to it a car also with its hood up. A set of cables connected the vehicles, the car engine running while Terry sat in the drives side.

“Okay, cut it!” CJ said, Terry turning the engine off. “That should do it.”

“How’s it lookin’?” Michael asked, everyone crowding round.

“Well, we’ve cleaned the battery, topped the water off, and just given it a jump-start,” CJ explained, nodding to Kenneth. “Try it?”

Climbing inside, Kenneth sat behind the wheel, giving it a second before turning the key in the ignition. The engine tried to start, letting out a dull metallic sound for a few moments before Kenneth stopped. CJ sighed, letting a few second pass before nodding, Kenneth trying once again. Spluttering to life, the engine finally started, roaring healthily when Kenneth accelerated. Clapping his gloved hands, CJ turned to Michael, a grin on his face.

“Told ya’ I’d get her up and running.”

“Let’s just hope she stays up and running,” Michael said.

“We’ll have to drive them round every morning, make sure the batteries don’t die again,” CJ said, beginning to disconnect the cables, “but other than that, it’s in perfect condition.”

“So, think we have a good chance with these?” Angela asked.

“Definitely,” Michael nodded, staring up at the bus, “but it’ll take a lot of work to get them ready.”

“How long?” Tucker asked.

Michael turned to CJ, who shrugged as he began rolling up the cables. “A few weeks at least, maybe three?”

“Let’s put this plan into action, then.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

Feeling refreshed after her shower, Angela met the small group congregated at Hallowed Grounds, still using a towel to dry her damp hair. Michael had called a meeting to discuss the entirety of their plan, refining minor details and ensuring everyone’s safety. Papers scattered the table, some filled with sketches of the buses, others with various measurements and scribbles. She stood next to CJ, who had an elbow leant on the table with a pencil in his hand, reading from a piece of paper.

“Okay, so far we need around forty aluminium plates, twenty-five metal grates, thirty steel bars, fifty feet of barbed wire, twenty two by fours, two reinforced doors, and a hell of a lot of screws and nails,” he said, looking up to Michael, “that sound about right?”

“And the snow plough,” Michael said, CJ jotting it down on the list.

“A snow plough?” Angela asked, leaning over him to check the list herself, “where the hell do we get one of those?”

“Not the actual truck, just the attachment to go on the bus; they have them up in Case Hardware,” Michael replied.

“How else do you expect to push through a few thousand dead people?” CJ asked humorously.

Rubbing her temple, Angela sighed deeply whilst reading the list again. “This is going to be a hell of a lot of work. Are we gonna’ be able to do this, especially in a few weeks?”

Michael looked up at her with a small smile and a nod of confidence. “We will, as long as we all work together and work hard - just have to think of freedom.”

“You gotta’ have some confidence in us,” CJ said, glancing at her with a smirk.

Still towelling her hair, she shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the papers, not meeting her eyes with the others. “I do…”

“Anything else we need?” Kenneth asked, diverting the conversation back.

“Not that I can think of,” Michael said, “we can add more stuff later if we need to - let’s move on to food.”

Ana, sat next to Michael around the table, revealed a notebook with pages full of writing. “If we keep using refrigerated foods, foods that have a low expiration date, we’ll have seventy cans and thirty-five packets of dried food. We’ll also have five crates of bottled water,” Ana read from her list, “we can’t take it all, but we will need a good part of it to last us on the boat."

“Okay, maybe we could fill two duffel bags of food and take two crates of water," Michael said, Ana quickly writing it down, “put one of each in both buses.”

Angela heard a sarcastic laugh behind her, turning around to find Steve leaning against the counter of the coffee bar. “This is all fine and dandy, but can I just ask the big main question? Once Andy does an 'Indiana Jones' and jumps into one of the buses, how the hell are we supposed drive through the city down to the marina and get on my boat without getting eaten by those motherfuckers? There’s gonna’ be at least a few thousand and more of those things following us all the way there.”

“Actually, I think I can help with that," Terry said, pulling out a folded paper from his back pocket. Revealing it to be a map, he spread it across the table, Angela taking note of the multiple red and blue marker lines drawn on it. “I was looking over this last night and I think I’ve found a route that might work,” he pointed to a specific point, “this is the mall. Now, after getting Andy, I thought if we take the main road here and drive straight into the city, those things will follow us.”

“Um, I think that's the exact opposite of what we want,” Steve commented.

“So,” Terry continued, dragging his finger across a blue line on the map, “we would then take this side road here.”

“Along the construction site?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, because then, there's this road that’s closed off. So, if we take the short cut through there, we should begin to lose those things. We keep weaving in and out of side streets, take the back roads instead of the highway - it'll be longer, but we should lose them.” He then started to drag his finger along the map. “If we continue on this dirt road, it'll lead us to the back entrance of the marina straight into the docks.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, looking over the map at Terry’s carefully planned out route. This came as quite a surprise to the group, looking at the time and effort the young man had put in to create a calculated and precise plan, thinking of other factors as well.

A soft smile appeared on Angela’s lips, looking up at the bashful man, appreciating what he had done. “This is great, Terry.”

“Yeah,” CJ said, studying the map closer, “this is a solid plan, kid.”

“Did you just come up with this last night?” Michael asked, running his finger over the route again.

Terry nodded. “Yeah, I found this map in the camping store, so I just looked over it for an hour before coming up with this.”

“It's probably our safest option, if it means we get to lose those things along the way,” Tucker said, Kenneth nodding in agreement.

“Okay then, we'll take this route,” Michael said, safely folding the map up again and seeming more confident by the second as the escape plan was coming together. “Now, this is where the fun begins; we need to decided jobs for everyone-”

“Excuse me, but does this ‘working’ thing include me?”

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Angela glared at Steve, who had interrupted. “Yes, it does include you. If you want to get out of here, you have to work.”

Pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his jacket, he twirled them on his finger, smirking at her. “Well, sweetie, I've got the keys to your ticket outta’ here, so that makes me the most important person here – kinda' like the captain.” Holding his head high, he struck a pose, to the annoyance of the group.

“Oh, great,” Ana mumbled, others shaking their heads, though Angela kept her poisonous gaze on the man, tensing her jaw.

“And you know what the captain does?” he asked, “nothing.”

“Well, how would you like it if I shoved this gun up your ass and pulled the trigger, captain?” The last word left Angela’s mouth as a sarcastic growl, her gun whipped from her holster and firm in her hand in seconds.

Funny façade dropping, Steve took a worrying step back, Angela following like a predator. Chair’s suddenly scraped across the floor, Michael appearing in front of her line of sight while CJ pulled her back by her shoulders, trying to calm her down.

“Hey, whoa there, darlin',” he said, lowering her gun for her, slightly startled by her aggressiveness.

“He's being an asshole!”

“She just threatened me!” Steve said, pointing accusingly at her.

Before the two of them could start an argument, Michael raised his hands to silence them, gaining attention from both parties.

“Angela, calm down,” he said sternly before looking at the other. “Steve, stop being an asshole.”

Exhaling though her nose, the agitated woman backed down, Steve grumbling to himself like a scorned child. With peace relatively restored, everyone relaxed, CJ rubbing Angela’s shoulder.

“As much as I would like to see you do that, we need this asshole for the moment, so just leave him – even if he is being a dick,” he muttered, looking towards Steve.

“CJ's right,” Michael said, taking his seat again, “the last thing we need is people fighting.”

“Well, then, I guess I'll leave you all to handle this,” Steve said, throwing Angela a cautious glance before walking away, whistling and swinging his keys.

Watching him leave, Angela reluctantly put her gun away, clasping it into her holster. Only now she noticed her heart thumping in her chest, her fingers trembling but not from anger; there was something else she was feeling but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Taking another deep breath, she focused back on Michael, who began talking again.

“Let's just get back to work,” he said, “so, I was thinking Kenneth and I could search through the pens in the parking garage, see if we can find anything useful there.

“Maybe CJ, Terry, Tucker, Angela, and Ana can look through Case Hardware, The Auto Parts, and the Tool Shed for any materials we need; whatever will help reinforce the trucks, gather them down in the garage. Nicole, Glen and Monica can sort through essential supplies; food, water, medical, clothes. Sound good?”

When everyone murmured in agreement, Michael nodded. “Okay, let’s tell everyone else and get to work.”

Half an hour later, everyone had split off into different groups, carrying out various jobs throughout the mall that Michael had set. Angela and CJ had settled in one of the hardware stores, Terry, Tucker, and Ana tackling the other two. CJ had found aluminium panelling, the two of them starting to pile them on a cart.

Pulling the last one from the shelf, Angela groaned while she carried it through the store to the entrance, where CJ was tidying up the rest on the pile. Noticing her struggle, he took it from her hands, Angela sighing gladly when she stood under the air vent, letting the cold air hit her and drying the sweat from her brow.

“Tired already?” CJ remarked, loading the final sheet of metal on the cart.

Letting her eyes fall on the man in front of her, Angela watched him lift the large piece of metal over his head, stretching to put it on top of the pile. In just a grey tank top, his sweaty arms and broad shoulders were exposed, glistening in the light. She noticed his muscles flexing, rippling across his back as he carried the heavy load to the pile. Realising she had been staring, she dropped her gaze downwards, shaking her head.

“No, totally used to manual labour as a high school teacher,” she joked, “I’m thirsty though, wanna’ grab a drink?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he grinned, following her back inside the store to the mini fridge by the register. “What did you teach?”

“Hm?” she hummed, grabbing two bottles of water.

“I know you’re a high school teacher,” he said, accepting the refreshment, “but I’ve never asked what you taught.”

“I’m an English teacher, mainly focusing on literature,” she answered before gulping down the cold water greedily, resting against the counter.

“That should have been obvious,” he said thoughtfully, sipping his water, “explains why you like reading so much.”

Angela smiled. “True, but I always knew I wanted to be a teacher – I just loved teaching kids,” her smiled faded into a sad expression as she thought about her students. “They were supposed to be presenting their Shakespeare projects the day everything went to shit. I just hope they’re all okay, safe with their families.

“I sometimes wonder if any of them are out there, in that crowd, rotting away with the rest of them. When we’re playing Hollywood Squares, I expect to see one of them through the binoculars, staring at me with white eyes,” she paused, thinking for a second. “I don’t know whether I’d get Andy to shoot them, but then I wouldn’t want them to stay like that, a walking corpse, hungry for flesh.”

She turned to CJ, a serious look on her face. “Do you think they know what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning on the counter next to Angela.

“Do you think when you turn, even though you’re dead, you’re still aware of what your body is doing?” she asked, “like what Kenneth said on the roof – memory, instinct. Do you think the person is still in there somewhere and they have no control of what they’re doing, but they have to endure everything, like killing their loved ones, shambling outside all day, moaning and groaning?”

Perplexed by her questions, CJ thought quietly, his eyebrows pulling together before looking at her. “No, I don’t think so. They’re dead, there’s nothing left of them, just a body.”

“I guess,” Angela whispered, staring down at the floor, “we won’t really know until it happens to us.”

“Don’t think like that,” he suddenly said, grabbing Angela’s chin to face him, “we’re gonna’ be fine.”

Angela shook her head, her expression blank. “You don’t know that.”

Face twisting in anger, CJ pushed himself away from the counter, clenching his hands near his face. “God, what is wrong with you?”

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“You!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at her, “you’ve been acting so weird today, nearly blowing Steve’s head off before! Now you’re suddenly being so negative and thinking the worst, talking about death and all this shit about whether those things are still human!”

“Well, it’s true,” Angela said, standing up straight, “I’m thinking about it, because at some point it’s gonna’ happen to us.”

“It’s not gonna’ happen to us, I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“You can’t say that, CJ, because something could happen to me,” she said, voice becoming louder. “For all we know, we won’t even make it past the parking lot with those things out there.”

“Stop thinking like that!” he shouted, becoming increasingly agitated.

“Why not?”

“Because when you think like that, you’ve already given up!” he said, pointing out the door, gesturing to the outside world. “You’re letting them win.”

“Maybe they’ve already won!” she said, throwing her bottle on the counter, not caring where it landed. “I mean, no one has come to help us, we’ve seen no other survivors these past few weeks, half the fucking city is shambling around outside, waiting to sink their teeth into us. What hope have we got?”

CJ stood, hands visibly trembling at her words, glaring at the woman in front of him. “So, what, you’d rather wait it out here until we starve to death? Until those things finally claw their way in and eat us?”

“No, I’m not saying that-”

“Well then what are you saying?”

“I’m fucking scared, CJ!” Angela finally shouted.

Voice bouncing off the walls of the store, it knocked them both into a stunned silence, only the sound of ragged breaths left from their arguing. Shoulders slumping, the anger seemed to leave CJ’s body slowly, his face relaxing while he stared at the upset woman.

“I’m scared,” she repeated more softly, “and fed up.”

Stepping closer, CJ didn’t say a word, letting Angela continue.

“I’m fed up of seeing people around me die. I watched my best friend die before turning into one of those things and nearly killing me, my neighbours the same. My brother is dead, and probably the rest of my family, because of those monsters.” Tears started to brim her eyes, voice becoming shaky. “Then that woman from the truck died without a name - her goddamn name - and Frank had to be put down like a dog, leaving Nicole without any family left.

“And just when we thought we were safe, we had it made here, Bart ended up getting torn apart by them,” CJ flinched at the memory, but Angela hardly noticed, focused on the words coming out of her mouth. “Luda turned into one of those things, which we still have no idea how that happened. Norma and Andre killed each other, and the baby...”

A sob hiccupped from her mouth, tears streaming down her face and she began to cry. Strong arms embraced her, CJ pulling her close and she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Something inside of her had broken, the tears flowing non-stop as her cries became harsher.

“Jesus, Angela,” he whispered, patting her back, “I had no idea you were feeling like this.”

She sniffled, resting her chin on his shoulder, face red. “I didn’t either, I guess I had all that bottled up.”

They stayed like that for the next five minutes, letting Angela calm down, her cries dying and tears drying. Despite her eyes stinging and throat aching, she felt relieved, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders; she hadn’t realised how much she had been hiding her feelings, especially after that tragic night, everything building up until it spilled over like a tsunami. The two of them ended up on the floor with their backs against the counter, CJ resting with one leg bent, Angela with both knees up to her chest. She sipped her water, quenching her parched mouth.

“It’s a good plan, the only one we’ve got.”

Drinking the last drop, she discarded her bottle, turning her head to face CJ. “I know.” Doubt had clouded her mind the past twenty-four hours, but now Angela felt she could see and think more clearly, her rational side kicking in. “I know we have to leave the mall, before it’s too late. We’ve just got to make this work.”

A hand clasped hers, CJ squeezing it while looking at her. “We will make this work.” A smile graced Angela’s lips, thankful for his confidence. “Anyway, I’m glad we’re finally getting’ out of here.”

“Or you're just glad you're not stuck in that cell anymore,” she joked, her smile morphing into a smirk. CJ chuckled, Angela following as well.

“And that too,” he said, swinging his arm to rest it on her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she murmured, using his arm as a pillow, “for being understanding.”

“I mean, you could have told me sooner instead of blowing up like that,” he said matter-of-factly, hint of playfulness on his face, “but I guess we’re both guilty of that now.”

“So, we’re even then?”

“Even.”

Their amusement simmered to soft smiles while they looked at each other, their close quarters comforting. Angela’s eyes briefly drifted down, noticing how she had curled her body towards the man next to her, her knees touching his thighs. Meeting his brown eyes again, their smiles faded, replaced with a moment of confusion before desire. The arm around her shoulders tightened, slowly pulling her in closer. Angela’s heart rate picked up as their faces neared, CJ calm and confident when his hand moved up through her hair, pulling her soft lips to his. The kiss started sweet, hesitant as their lips froze together, CJ squeezing her tight in his arms.

When he parted her lips, taking lead as the kiss became more heated, her hand pressed firmly against his chest, fingertips tingling when they brushed the soft fabric of his vest. Feeling the harsh hairs of his moustache tickle under her nose, she hummed lowly, her lips now moving in sync with his. Her stomach fluttered wildly, becoming intoxicated by his musky smell, the taste of cigarettes strong. Angela wanted nothing more than this feeling to last forever, for them to melt into each other and forget about the horribleness that was the undead world around them. Instead, they finally pulled apart, though they stayed inches from each other.

Nothing was said when their eyes met once more, faces flushed and lips partially open. Angela felt high, the blood rushing to her head and heartbeat thrumming her eardrums. CJ grinned, resting his chin on top her head, pulling her close enough to feel the vibrations in his chest when he said, “you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she replied, her nails dancing along his arm.

“Better than you expected?”

Angela scoffed, tilting her head up. “Seriously?”

“As serious as a heart attack, sweetheart.”

Nestling back into his chest to hide her smile, she sighed, “so much better.” 

They remained like that for a while, lost in each other’s arms, losing track of time. When they finally remembered they had jobs to do, CJ untangled himself from Angela, standing up and holding a hand out to her.

“C’mon, let’s get your lazy add back to work,” he said, pulling her upright when she accepted his help, “don’t want anyone to think we’re slacking.”

However, a hand quickly slapped her rear, Angela flinching at the sting that followed. Trying to soothe the area, she looked at CJ, who walked ahead, turning back to give her his smug, shit-eating grin that she had grown accustomed to. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she bit her lip to hide her smile, instead shaking her head.

“You're still a dick, you know that, right?”

“I know, but you like it.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.
> 
> Content Warning: Slight Sexual Content

Coffee in hand, Angela descended the dim concrete staircase, something that would become a frequent occurrence now; it was the first day of reinforcing the shuttle buses, starting by stripping them both bare. Angela woke this morning to an empty space next to her, knowing CJ had wanted to get an early start on them along with Michael. The first person she had seen this morning was Terry at Hallowed Grounds, already sipping his soy mocha latte with extra foam, which CJ still never let him live down. He had seemed eager to start, only briefly stopping to greet Angela before going down.

A clang of metal greeted her when she entered the garage, a set of bus seats laying in a heap on the floor. CJ appeared through the door of the first bus, throwing another set on the growing pile, scrap metal rolling to Angela’s feet.

“Wow, you really did get an early start,” she said, kicking it back in the already large pile, taking note of his progression.

Stepping down from the bus, he wiped the sweat from his face, a smile spreading over his face. “Of course, I don’t need an extra hour of beauty sleep and a cup of coffee,” he said jokingly, gesturing to the drink in her hand.

An eyebrow arched with amusement on her face. “What, like Terry?”

“Hey, I heard that!” a voice shouted from the next bus, causing the couple to chuckle lightly.

“So, what can I do?” she asked, sipping her drink.

Another set of seats flew out from the bus, Michael peering his head from the door, patches of dark sweat littering his shirt. “You can help Ana take the windows out, use box cutters to cut them out.”

“Sure you can handle that?” CJ asked, giving her a pair from the toolbox.

Angela slid her thumb over the metal handle, pushing the blade up and back down, her eyes flicking to the man in front of her. “Oh yeah, I’m pretty good with my hands,” she replied with a wink, lips pursing around the straw in her drink.

A smirk appeared on CJ’s lips when he realised what she had said, crossing his arms over his chest and watched her walk away. Before disappearing behind the bus, she glanced at him over her shoulder, catching his dark eyes still following her. She couldn’t help the smile on her face when she met Ana, who placed a glass pane on a table.

“Could you make it any more obvious?” Ana said, having heard her and CJ’s conversation.

Cutting blade ready in hand, Angela set down her drink and began slicing at the rubber seal around one of the windows next to Ana, shrugging coyly at her words. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” Ana laughed with a hand on her hip, “you can cut the tension with a knife.”

“Hm, funny, I was gonna’ say the same about you and Michael,” Angela said, noticing the blonde’s face heating up from the corner of her eye.

The work on the buses continued all morning, Angela and Ana removing the glass windows while Michael and CJ stripped the seats from one bus, Kenneth and Terry doing the same on the other. Tucker worked on removing the emergency exit door on the back of the first bus, ready to replace it with something stronger. Monica and Glen cleared the pile of growing scrap metal while Nicole filtered between odd jobs.

“Shit,” Ana muttered after setting down another pane of glass, dropping her cutting knife and rubbing her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, removing the last glass window on the first bus.

“I’ve got blisters from those damn cutters.”

Seeming to pick up on Ana’s distress, Michael suddenly appeared in front of her, removing his thick safety gloves. “Here, let me have a look,” he said, softly grabbing her hands.

Watching the two of them, the way Michael’s fingers ran over Ana’s hands, their bodies migrating closer while they stared at each other, Angela smiled. When she caught Ana’s eye, she raised her blade and began cutting through the air, mouthing the word ‘tension’. The blonde’s eyes widened, Angela quickly returning to her work, laughing quietly to herself.

By the end of the day, the buses had been stripped to their bare bones, all the seats and windows taken out, the emergency doors gone. Angela threw the last of the glass panes in the industrial garbage container, sighing while wiping her hands on her sweatshirt.

“That was a long day.”

“This is only the start, we’re gonna’ be spending weeks working on these buses,” Tucker said, throwing in a pile of trash.

“Don’t remind me,” she said.

“Y’all better suck it up,” Kenneth said with a slight grin, walking past with a pile of metal grates in his arms.

“Hey, we’re prepared to do this work, doesn’t mean we can complain while doing it,” Angela replied, rubbing her stiff shoulder.

“Okay, everybody up soon,” Ana called, setting her tools down, “dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“Ooh, is it chicken pot pie again?” Tucker asked hopefully.

Terry grimaced, dropping the metal sheets he had been carrying on a table. “We had that last night.”

“I love me some chicken pot pie,” the other grinned, licking his lips.

A murmur of excitement hummed through the group as they cleared up, the hard day obviously working up their appetite. Walking between the buses, Angela peered through the doorway of one, poking her head in a window of the other. Unable to find the man she was searching for, she looked around with a slight frown.

“Anyone seen CJ?”

“He went up to the Auto store,” a voice from above said, Angela looking up to Michael on the roof of the first bus, a tape measure in hand, “said he wanted to check something out for an idea of his.”

“Thanks,” she said, offering the man a casual salute.

Heading towards the stairs, Angela waved to various people of the group on her way out. Before she left, however, she bumped into Ana and Monica by the doors, the brunette having a sneaking suspicion they had waited purposefully for her, by their sly smiles.

“Creeping off upstairs for some alone time, huh?” Monica asked coyly.

“Whatever your dirty mind is thinking, you can stop,” Angela laughed, ignoring the blush flaring up on her cheeks, “just wanna’ spend a bit of time with him on our own.”

Ana nodded with a sarcastic manner. “Yeah, whatever. Just remember dinner is in an hour, so don’t be too long with your ‘alone time’.”

Leaving the two giggling women, Angela couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips, her pace instinctively quickening up the steps. Despite dispelling the two women’s comments, Angela’s heightened flirting with CJ had been obvious to anyone who looked their way today.

After their first kiss, the tension between them hadn’t simmered but seemed to ignite even more, the two gravitating towards each other. Throughout the day, their gazes locked frequently, both finding excuses to brush past each other occasionally. During lunch, when Angela was sure no one was looking, she pulled CJ behind the bus for a quick but fiery kiss, only heating things between them more.

Mind clouded with the various encounters she and CJ had, Angela didn’t realise how quick she had walked through the mall until she was stood outside the store. Taking a calming breath, ignoring how her heart fluttered, she pushed the heavy glass doors open, stepping into the seemingly empty hardware store.

“CJ?”

“In the back.”

Following the sound of his voice, she walked through the many isles of tools and hardware supplies, finding the man in the very far corner of the store. Knelt on the floor, tape measure in hand, she watched him check the width of a gas tank, pulling a marker from behind his ear to write the number on it. She noticed there were three more tanks surrounding him, all with different measurements on them.

“Care to explain?” she asked curiously, leaning against a wooden works table.

“There’s hundreds of those fuckers outside, so we’re bound to get into some trouble,” he explained, popping the cap back on the marker, “so I figured we’d use these, blow some of them away.”

“Create a few explosions here and there?” she asked, impressed with his idea. 

“If we’re leaving, might as well leave with a bit of style,” he said with his usual grin.

The butterflies in her chest grew stronger; she could never resist his wolfish smirk, so with a playful voice, she said, “well, I do certainly like a man with a plan.”

Sensing her tone, blue eyes shifted to her curiously and CJ clucked his tongue. “Do you now?”

Pursing her plump lips, she pushed herself to sit on the table, swinging her legs lightly. Fingers curled over the edge of the table, she leant forward with a small hum. “Yeah, someone who works hard – isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, even though he’s a bit of an asshole.”

Letting the marker drop to the floor, CJ stood with a shake of his head. “You are such a fucking tease.”

Feeling a smile creep on her face, she bit her bottom lip, playing dumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“I think you do.” Taking confident steps towards her, Angela straightened her back as CJ came closer, her body tensing slightly. “And you’ve been doing it all damn day.”

Watching him stalk towards her like a predator coming for its prey, Angela’s cocky façade melted away. Parting her legs to let the man in front of her step between them, his hands brushed along her thighs, finally resting on her hips. Taking a short and quivering breath through her nose, trying to control her rising heartbeat, her core muscles clenching tightly at his warm touch.

“Glad you noticed,” she managed to murmur after a few moments, though never breaking eye contact.

“Pretty hard not to.”

Keeping one hand firm on her hip, the other began slowly making its way up her body, fingers dragging along her waist, partially tugging her sweatshirt up. When his palm grazed her breast, thumb sweeping over her nipple, Angela’s breath hitched, her back arching into his touch. His hand stopped on her neck, fingers in her hair and thumb under her chin.

The room was suddenly sweltering, Angela’s chest visibly raising with every breath; the tension so thick it suffocated her. There was hardly any space between them, CJ’s face centimetres away from hers. She didn’t know what to say now, whether her voice could even produce any noise – she was so overwhelmed. It had been so long for her, starved of intimacy for years. Now it was right in front of her and she so badly wanted it, desperate for CJ to touch her, to make her feel good, to make her forget everything she had experienced the past few weeks.

Noticing the flurry of emotions crossing over her face, CJ softened his grip, tilting his head. “Angela, if this is too much for you…”

Feeling his body shifting away from her, the warmth and security leaving her, all hesitation and worry disappeared. A hot spike of desire coursed through her body and her legs wrapped around CJ, keeping him close against her. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, she pulled him forward and their lips finally met.

Unlike their previous kisses, which were sweet, this one was feverish. There was force from both parties, hands grabbing at each other, pulling impossibly closer and groping hot flesh. Legs tightening around CJ, Angela moaned into the kiss when their pelvises grinded together. Electric tingled up her spine, her head spinning when they pulled away for air, both their breathing harsh.

Locking heated gazes, they couldn’t help but smile at each other. Both of Angela’s hands rested against his chest, while CJ had one hand tangled in her hair and the other on her waist, though it slowly slipped away below the table.

“Well, we can either keep pussyfooting around or…”

Reaching into his pocket, Angela heard a soft rustle before his hand appeared again, and between two fingers he held up a square golden wrapper. For a couple seconds she stared at it, mouth dropping once she realised what it was, letting out a bark of laughter. Throwing her head back in disbelief, she continued to cackle loudly, CJ’s broad smirk wide across his face.

It felt good for Angela to laugh, it felt natural, any sense of overwhelmingness completely vanishing from her body.

“Seriously, cocky much?” she said, her fit of laughter dying down. “When did you get that?”

CJ shrugged, failing to look innocent. “Grabbed it during lunch, after you practically jumped me behind the bus.”

Feeling her face heat up, her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “You really are such a dick.”

“You love it,” he replied, a hand brushing through her hair.

Angela didn’t deny it and happily leant in for another kiss, this time taking it a little more slowly. Letting her body melt into his, she draped her arms around his neck, CJ unbuttoning his pants.

 

The next few days continued as such, the group – excluding Steve – returning to the garage to begin the modifications to the vehicles. This included welding the snow plough to the first bus, which was the most difficult job and took a full day to complete, as well as adding chain link fencing and metal grating to the outside of the bus over. Day by day, the buses were coming along, reinforcements making them stronger.

Holding a flashlight in one hand, Angela slowly rotated the screwdriver, attaching the spotlight fixture on the roof of the bus. Monica held the ladder she stood on, Ana and Glen doing the same on the other bus – Tucker had spent the morning wiring everything up, leaving them to be attached.

“Okay, just need to secure them in,” Angela said, looking down at the toolbox on the ground, “Nicole, can you pass me the drill?”

Copper hair appeared from the snow plough on the first bus, the sound of a spray paint can rattling. “Sorry, I’m busy!”

Monica rolled her eyes, Angela and Ana sharing the same annoyed frown, something which was becoming a regular occurrence when it came to asking Nicole to do something. The girl was working on mural for the snow plough, something she deemed a necessary job, despite not helping much with anything on the buses, besides following Terry around or playing with the dog.

Angela cleared her throat, asking more sternly, “Nicole, sweetie, the toolbox is next to you, can you please just pass me the drill?”

“Why can’t Monica just get it?”

Before said woman could reply with a snide comment, Michael picked the power drill up as he walked past, handing it to Angela. Lowering herself down on the ladder, she whispered to him through gritted teeth, “she needs to start actually helping around here before she pisses people off.”

Monica scoffed, “she’s already done that.”

“She’s young, she’s doing the best she can,” he said, shrugging before walking away.

“That’s still no excuse; she can be on clean up duty tonight,” Angela said, the curly blonde nodding in agreement, “it’s bad enough that Steve’s sitting on his ass while we bust our asses.”

Monica grimaced at the mention of his name. “Urgh, don’t remind me.”

“Still want nothing to do with him?”

“Do you know what he did last night?” she asked, elbow leaning on one of the bars of the ladder, “he asked me if I ‘wanted to take a ride on the sea captain’.”

“Urgh.” Face scrunching in disgust, Angela shook her head. “What did you do?”

“Said I’d snap his ‘mast’ in half if he came near me,” she replied, much to the amusement of the brunette. “Did he really think I’d just do that with him after the shit he’s pulled? I knew he was a prick but now he’s just ridiculous.”

“He’s a disgusting pig, you definitely don’t need him,” Angela pointed out, turning her attention back to the light fixture.

“I guess so, it just sucks to have no one. At least you have CJ.” Monica’s sullen face morphed into a grin, winking up at Angela. “By the way, mind keeping it down at night? I don’t think me and Steve were that loud”

Hearing her comment, Angela gasped, squeezing too tightly on the drill’s trigger. The drill spun out of control, scraping along the metal of the bus. Monica screeched with laughter, revelling in Angela’s embarrassment.

“That’s not funny,” Angela muttered, aligning the drill with the screw again, successfully tightening it.

“Yeah, it is.”

With the spotlight secure, Angela climbed down the ladder, giving the tool to Ana. Once both light fixtures were secured, they turned them on, the white spotlights blinding, Angela admired them proudly. A body appeared beside her and she leant against it, sighing contently.

“What do you think?” she asked CJ.

“They’re workin’ fine, so I’d say good job,” he replied, smiling down at her. “Comin’ up?”

When she nodded, a rough hand smacked her rear, CJ already walking towards the stairs.

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said, rubbing the stinging sensation away.

“You love it.”

Not disagreeing with him, she gladly followed him up the stairs. However, another set of footsteps echoed behind them, Terry joining them. To Angela’s simultaneous relief and great surprise, Nicole wasn’t attached and trailing after him like a persistent, annoying puppy.

“The buses look so badass,” he said, falling into step with the couple.

Angela agreed, “I can’t wait until we finish them.”

“Fuckin’ taking us long enough, working on them day and night,” CJ said, stretching his arms.

“It’ll be worth it,” she said, grabbing his hand, “soon, we'll be sailing along the seas, with the sun on our faces and the wind in our hair. We’ll be far away from this place and everything will just feel like a bad dream.”

Terry’s face softened as he pictured Angela’s words, a hopeful smile resting on his lips. “There's one thing I'll definitely miss about this place.”

“What's that?”

“Video game hour.”

Memories of the times she played video games with the young man suddenly sprung in her mind, chuckling, “yeah, I'll miss whipping your butt.”

“Oh, here we go,” CJ sighed, a hand coming up to his forehead.

“That only happened twice,” Terry said, eyes narrowing.

“Three times.”

“The third time didn't count, you cheated.”

The woman gasped dramatically, putting a hand over her heart, looking back at him. “I never cheated!”

“Bunch of children, honestly,” CJ muttered, the other two continuing to bicker all the way up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, wasn’t that an interesting chapter ;) heh heh, sorry for the blue balling, but I didn’t want to include a full-on smut in this story. Reason being, I know some people really don’t like inclusion of descriptive, explicit smut, especially when the story isn’t orientated around smut. However, I wouldn’t be opposed to maybe creating a separate chapter or one-shot of Angela and CJ’s sex scene(s)..?
> 
> Anyway, hope you all liked this chapter!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

“We have 12 of these shotgun shells, 26 of those pussy 9-mils,” Tucker paused, a smile appearing on his face, “and 16 of the 357 magnums.”

Stood around the bar at Hallowed Grounds, Angela, Ana, and Tucker had gathered all the ammo left for their weapons. With fifteen days to go until leaving the mall through the hordes of undead, they began preparing their supplies, including how much ammo they had to defend themselves in case of trouble.

“Yeah? That's still not very much,” Ana said uncertainly, staring at the pile.

“So, hopefully there won't be too many of them at the dock,” he replied cheerfully.

Angela couldn’t help but laugh, despite the flicker of worry crossing her face; the ideal outcome of the plan would be to make it safely to the boat without coming into close encounters with the infected, although that seemed doubtful – they were relying on the buses for their protection.

The large vehicles were nearly complete, save for some minor adjustments, but the group had worked hard reinforcing them. Heavy steel doors replaced the old back ones, a security bar fitted on the inside. Barbed wire lined the roofs, aluminium panels covering the floors and walls on the inside. They had layered metal grates and chain link fencing over the glassless windows, making sure nothing could break though. The snow plough on the first bus was their main defence, hoping to push through the crowds without too much trouble, while solid iron bars lined the front of the second bus. CJ had even shown Angela his and Michael’s ‘secret weapon’; small gaps running alongside the buses for them to push a chainsaw through them to slice anything that clung on in half. Gory, but hopefully effective.

“Maybe we could get Andy to prepare a bag with some weapons and ammo,” Angela suggested, Tucker nodding in agreement.

Sauntering over to the trio in another pair of silk pyjamas and a robe, Steve whistled happily to himself while he began making himself a coffee, not acknowledging anyone’s presence. They watched him for a moment, Angela and Ana rolling their eyes, Tucker shaking his head. After a few seconds of silence, the blonde cleared her throat.

“Nice to see you busting your ass."

“Oh, that's sarcasm. That is awesome,” he said, a sickly-sweet smile forming on his face, “you know, I would love to help but a captain never works alongside his men.” Pulling his keys out from his pocket, he dangled them in front of their faces teasingly before walking away with his drink. “You guys have a good 'un.”

“What a total dick,” Ana said, the distain clear on their faces as they watched him leave.

If it wasn’t for the fact they needed Steve and his boat, Angela was certain the man would be sporting a black eye and a couple missing teeth, or possibly thrown off the roof down to the ravenous crowd, like CJ had previously threatened.

“Guys, where did Chips go?” Nicole suddenly asked, pacing in circles.

“Chips?” Terry shouted, dropping a box of food to help his worried girlfriend

“Where’d you go, Chips?” she shouted, her panic rising, looking at everyone with fearful eyes. “I can't find him! Chips? Come here!”

“Probably hiding, away from her,” Monica muttered when she walked past the coffee bar, Ana concealing her smile behind her hand.

Angela knew it was wrong to find amusement in the girl’s distress, but the situation was very over-dramatic since it was impossible for Chips to get out, and the young girl had gotten on everyone’s last nerve recently. Instead of putting in the grueling work of fixing up the buses, she occupied herself with unimportant jobs, however most of her time was spent babying the dog.

“Nicole, he won’t have gone far,” Angela sighed, watching the girl cry out even louder.

“Come on, Chips!”

“ _Come on, Chips. Come on, Chips_ ,” Monica quietly mimicked in a high-pitched, whiny voice, dropping another box on the floor.

With a fed-up expression, Tucker gave the group a hard look before sticking his fingers in his mouth, blowing a sharp but loud whistle. In the distance, a bark echoed through the mall, a running patter of paws hitting the tiled floor coming closer until the black and white dog appeared. Spreading her arms out, Nicole crouched to the floor, embracing the dog like it was a child, squeezing it so hard Angela was sure Chips regretted reappearing.

“There you are, there's my boy!” she said in a childish voice, tightened her grip and planting a kiss on it’s head, “don't you ever leave me again, Okay? Ever, ever.”

While the young girl continued to cuddle the dog, complimenting how much of a good worker he was with his tactical doggy coat – Monica again making a hushed comment on how he does more work than the girl herself – Angela quietly excused herself from the coffee bar. Dealing with Steve’s usual asshole-self and Nicole’s ‘dramatic ordeal’ had given her a headache, so she needed some relief, and she knew exactly where to find the right person.

Making her way to the familiar corridor, she entered the security office, finding CJ sat in front of the dozen monitors. Before Steve had made an appearance earlier, Michael had passed by Hallowed Grounds on his way to the garage, mentioning CJ would in the office – they had been checking the camera’s everyday recently to keep tabs on the growing hordes of undead. Walking up behind him, eyes quickly glancing to the open cell, she placed her hands on his shoulders, fingers massaging his tight muscles.

“How’s it goin’?”

Placing a hand on top of hers, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin, he sighed, “fine, I guess, just doing the usual checks.”

“And?”

“I’d say fifty or so more today, they’ve nearly filled the parking lot,” he said, “half the city has surrounded us, and more keep coming by the day.”

Stomach coiling uncomfortably, Angela frowned at the black and white screens, watching the hundreds of moving figures on the outside. “Will they ever stop?”

“I don’t know,” he said, spinning around in the chair to face her. “On the plus side, maybe it means the city will be deserted.”

“If we even make it to the-”

Hands wrapped around her waist, forcibly pulling her down on the chair, cutting her sentence off as she gasped. Gripping the head rest to steady herself, her legs spread either side of CJ, she glared at him though with hinted surprise.

“Don’t start that shit again,” he said seriously, his hands squeezing her hips, “we’re going to be fine.”

Scowl disappearing, she smiled down at him, feeling reassured by his words. “Do you always look on the bright side of things?” she asked, her arms slinking around his neck.

“Honestly, no,” he said, a hand creeping up beneath her shirt, “especially when I was trapped in that cell.”

Ducking her head close to his, their lips barely touching, she whispered, “I can probably guess why you’re more positive, now you’re free from it.”

"Always a tease,” he said, closing the gap.

Lips connecting, the kiss was slow and deep, the back of the chair leaning when their bodies pushed against it. Angela’s fingers dragged through his hair, knocking his hat off, her thighs tightening around his. CJ’s hands slid up her bare back, fingers following her spine till they reached the metal clasp of her bra.

The door flung open, Terry appearing in the doorway, not even batting an eyelid at the couple’s compromising position. Pulling away from each other, Angela fumbling to pull her shirt down with a startled squeal, CJ flung his head back with a rough groan, his hands rubbing down his face.

“Jesus Christ, Terry, couldn’t you have fucking knocked first?”

“I’ve been trying to find you guys,” Terry said, Angela suddenly noticing the quickened pant of his breath, “Kenneth’s called a meeting for everyone.”

“Can’t it wait like ten minutes?” CJ asked.

“He said it’s urgent,” Terry explained, a worried look crossing his face, “it’s about Andy.”

The couple paused, the heat between them disappearing at Terry’s words. Looking at each other, they shared a look of concern before turning to the young man by the door; they knew something was amiss. Angela sighed while CJ picked his hat up from the floor, shaking his head.

“Shit.”

Terry leading the way, they found the rest of the group huddled by Hallowed Grounds, loud voices bouncing off each other; Angela noticed Steve was amongst the few who were arguing. Stood away from the commotion with his arms crossed, Kenneth seemed perplexed, silent and eyes distant.

“What's going on?” Angela asked when they joined them.

“Andy,” Michael said, nodding his head towards the cop, “Kenneth said he might not make it.”

“He’s starving,” Steve idly added, resting against the counter, “ran out of food.”

“It's not just about him starving, Steve,” Ana said, stepping in front of him, “if we go to pick him up and he doesn't have his strength, we're going to be carrying him.”

“She's right. He's a hell of a shot too,” Tucker added, “we're gonna' need him.”

Steve leaned forward, rubbing his temples frustratedly. “Tucker, I'm not saying we don't need him.”

“Look, there's no point in arguing about this, alright,” Michael said, stepping in between everyone with his hands out, “we need a solution. We need to get some food over there.”

“Okay, I've got an idea. We draw straws and the loser runs across the lot with a ham sandwich.”

A chorus of sarcastic laugher passed though the group at Steve's unfunny suggestion. However, Angela’s eyes narrowed, her hands resting on her hips.

“Could you be a bigger prick?” she asked him.

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant.”

A body stepped in front of her, CJ leaning dangerously close to the obnoxious man. “My question is, what’s _your_ plan?”

Throwing his hands in the air like he enjoyed riling everyone up in the group, Steve laughed, “oh, come on!”

“Shut up!”

Everyone immediately fell silent, eyes landing on Kenneth, who’s deep voice echoed in the heart of the mall. He looked around at everyone before turning towards Nicole, who was on the floor a few feet away play with Chips, having no interest in the current conversation. They all watched as she threw a toy, clapping and praising the dog when he fetched and returned the stuffed teddy.

“I have an idea.”

 

 

“Stop, it's hurting him!” Nicole cried, thrashing against Terry, who restrained her by the arms. “No, it's not safe!”

When Kenneth revealed his plan to send Chips with his doggie coat full of supplies to Andy's store, Nicole instantly protested, going as far as trying to run away from the group to hide the dog. Once they had successfully captured Chips, they filled the pockets of his coat with as much food and water that could fit and created a makeshift hook and rope to slowly lower the dog into the parking lot.

“Nicole, they're not interested in him, I promise,” Ana said, feeding the rope through the hook.

Peeking over the edge, Angela looked at the dog in question. Chips seemed far from distressed, looking like he was having the time of his life as dangled in the air. He paid no attention to the undead crowd beneath him, wagging his tail and barking occasionally.

“He's totally fine, Nicole,” she said.

Cupping the anxious girl’s face, Terry pressed their foreheads together, trying to calm her fears. “Look at me, they want us, okay? Chips is gonna' be fine.”

When Angela looked over again, Chips had been lowered enough for the infected to reach and touch him. Raising their arms up curiously, their decaying hands brushed and patted against him, though none went to grab or bite him. Chips didn’t sense any danger and thankfully kept calm.

“They're not harming him, and Chips is doing great.”

Once his paws touched the ground, Michael tugged the hook, unclasping Chips' coat from the rope. Both Kenneth and Angela raised their set of binoculars, Angela using hers to keep an eye on the sheep dog while Kenneth looked at Andy. With Chips safe on the ground, she raised her hand in the air, giving the signal to the gunman on the roof of his store. A second later, a high-pitched whistle could be heard, Chips cocking his head and immediately following the noise. Angela smiled, watching the dog trot through the crowd toward the gun store, none of them taking notice.

“See,” Terry pointed out to Nicole, who watched in anticipation, “look, he's just walkin' right by them, they're not paying attention to him.”

“Walkie's in the bag, right?” Kenneth asked, eyes still on his friend.

“Yeah,” CJ replied.

Andy blew the whistle again, making sure to keep Chips on the right track. Angela continued following him with her binoculars, nodded when he made it out the parking lot.

“He’s almost there,” she said when he made it to the street.

“Let me see!” Nicole suddenly ordered, pushing through the group to snatch the binoculars from Kenneth, smiling when she found the dog. “Ah, there he his! Good boy, good boy, Chips!”

Chips made it to the small hatch of the door at the gun store, sitting patiently next to it. Quickly raising her binoculars up, she just caught Andy as he disappeared from the roof to go downstairs. Moments later the small door opened, a hand appearing to coax Chips inside.

“Yes, he’s done it,” Angela said.

“What is it?” CJ asked, trying to squint through the crowds of dead people.

“He's in! Good boy, Chips!” Nicole replied, body rattling with joy.

“Give me those,” Kenneth said, quickly taking back the binoculars from her to look for himself.

To their relief, Chips wagged his tail at the sight of Andy, jumping through the hatch. Just before Angela was going to drop her binoculars in celebration as Andy closed the door, an infected surged forward and stuck its fingers in the closing gap. The smile’s dropped from Angela and Kenneth’s faces as a struggle began, the monster trying to pull the door up while Andy fought against it. The gunman lost, the infected ragging the hatch open, letting one of those things scramble inside.

“Oh no,” Kenneth whispered in disbelief.

“Oh shit,” Angela said, throat becoming tight when another one crawled through, “oh, God, no!”

“What?” Nicole asked worriedly, concerned at their reactions, “what is it?”

The concerned group huddled close, trying to see what she and Kenneth were witnessing, the tension growing stronger.

“No, they got him!” Kenneth shouted, voice filled with panic, “they got him!”

Two gunshots echoed in the distance, Angela watching intently when the hatch door finally closed, blocking anymore getting in. However, the commotion had alerted all the nearby undead beings, groups of them now clawing and banging on the boarded-up windows of the store.

“He closed it, but I don't know whether...” she trailed off, not daring to finish her sentence and dropped the binoculars from her eyes.

With fear present in her wet eyes, she turned to CJ, who tugged her close with an arm over her shoulders. Michael pulled out the walkie-talkie, trying to get Andy to talk to them. They waited for several moments, worried faces staring at the talkie, only hearing static on the other end.

“Andy!” Michael repeated.

The walkie crackled before a voice could be heard, relief overcoming everyone when Andy talked. _“Can you hear me? Hello? Listen, I'm dinged up pretty bad, but I think I'm gonna' be okay.”_

“Where you hurt, Andy?” Michael asked.

_“Damn, those bastards bite hard!”_

Just as quick as it came, relief vanished from the group. Silence followed, everyone looking at each other with the same horrified expression, the realisation hitting them all; Andy didn’t know a bite eventually turned you into a monster. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, grasping the walkie tight in his hand with frustration. Kenneth closed his eyes, his head bowing and face unreadable. Angela cursed under her breath, letting her head fall against CJ’s shoulder, who shook his head sorrowfully.

 _“I just have to stop the bleeding, it's really going.”_ Barking came through the line, Andy shushing Chips. _“Easy, boy, easy... Is this Ken? Is that you, man?”_

Taking the walkie, Kenneth took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, it's me, brother.”

 _“Hey, man, good to hear your voice. I guess we're gonna' meet up close pretty soon, huh?”_ Andy chuckled, unaware of the danger he was in. _“Ah shit, hang on.”_

“Now, you just hang in there,” Kenneth said firmly, trying to hide his sadness, “you got the food, right?”

Feeling tears brim her eyes, Angela lifting her head away from CJ, furiously trying to blink them away. Blurry vision focusing on Terry, she noticed Nicole missing from his side. Looking around the group, she realised the young girl had disappeared. A glimpse of bright copper hair across the roof caught Angela's eye, Nicole running behind the stairwell.

A horrible feeling bubbled in her stomach when she realised the girl was heading towards the truck.

Too concerned with Andy’s situation at hand, no one noticed Angela separating herself from the group, quickly following Nicole’s trail. Upon making it to the opposite rooftop edge, her green eyes widened in utter shock at what she found. The red head sat perched on the roof of the BP truck, looking down at the undead that swarmed around it, who remained unaware of her presence.

“Nicole!” Angela whispered, loud enough to attract her attention but low enough for rotting creatures not to hear.

Looking at Angela with startled eyes, resembling a spooked cat, she began crawling backwards to the cab. Angela crouched by the ladder, gesturing for the girl to stop.

“Nicole!” she repeated more sternly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I need to save Chips,” Nicole said, glancing over the edge of the truck again.

Feeling her brows crease together, Angela let the words sink before her jaw dropped, not quite believing what the girl had just said.

“Are you fucking serious?” she spat, voice raising slightly. “You’re going to risk your life for a dog?”

Ignoring the older woman, she slowly lowered her legs off the edge of the truck, swinging them through the window of the truck door just before any of the things noticed. Eyes widening once again, Angela felt the blood rushing through her veins, her anger diminishing and panic settling in when she realised the girl was deadly serious.

“Nicole don't do this,” she said, climbing down the ladder and crouching on the roof of the truck.

“I have to!”

“Nicole!” Angela yelled, crawling forward when she heard the engine trying to start. “You can’t drive off with me on here and I won’t move until you get out the goddamn truck!”

The dead beings nearby heard Angela, looking up at the truck. Snarling, they ran up to it, beginning to throw themselves at it, doing anything for a chance to taste her flesh. Beneath her, the truck suddenly roared to life, Angela freezing halfway towards the cab. Coming to the realisation that Nicole was set on moving the truck whether she was on it or not, she hastily turned around. Breathing heavy as her hands and knees slapped against the metal roof hurriedly, she crawled back to the ladder. Fingertips barely grazing it, the truck stuttered forward, Angela crying out when she nearly lost her balance.

“Nicole, stop!” she shouted, laying her palms flat when the truck started to move.

Words falling on deaf ears, Nicole drove out of the loading bay and smashed through the chain link fencing, avoiding the crowded parking lot. However, she drove into the street filled with undead, all of them following close. Slamming her hands on the truck, Angela’s heart pounding against her chest and in her ear, her stomach coiling heavily as fear engulfed her; she tried focusing staying on the truck instead of the horde below her.

“Nicole!”

Coming to the end of the street, the truck took a sharp turn, Angela sliding across the roof and off the edge. A terrified scream ripped from her throat, her hands gripping the raised edge at the last second, keeping her from falling off to her death. Dangling from the truck, her feet were just inches from the crowd beneath her.

“NICOLE!” she screamed, managing to pull herself up so her elbows rested on the roof, giving her more leverage.

Struggling to keep her grip, she could hear howls and moans below her over the thumping in her ears. Speeding along the street, Nicole swerved for the gun store, breaks screeching and the truck halted to a crashing stop against the building, the force of it causing Angela to slip down again. Feeling a hand wrap around her foot, she struggled against it to pull herself up again.

“Fuck!” she yelled, kicking the zombie twice in the face, freeing herself from its grasp.

Nails scratching against the metal, she pulled herself up again with aching arms, avoiding the other rotting hands that tried to grab her. Once safely up, she let herself have a moment to catch her breath, the shock of how close she came to being dinner for the horde hitting her. Crawling over to the cab, she looked down between the gap where the hatch to Andy's store was. The driver’s door was open, blocking off the undead as Nicole opened the hatch.

“Nicole, you nearly fucking killed me!” Angela seethed through gritted teeth, glaring down at the girl with rage.

The girl didn’t even glance up at her, slamming the wooden door up and crawling through the opening, already calling out to Chips. Remembering Nicole didn’t know Andy had been bitten, Angela leant forward, trying to warn her.

“Wait! You're going to get yourself killed, Andy's been bit!” The hatch door slammed shut, Angela letting her head drop against the truck before slamming her fists. “Stupid fucking…”

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply and just hoped Andy stayed alive long enough to help Angela and Nicole. Letting her heartrate settle, she sat up and looked up to the roof of the gun store; it wasn’t too high for her, probably able to climb up. If she was quick enough, she could get to Nicole before Andy turned, depending how injured he was.

Standing on the tips of her toes, her fingers latching on the coarse roof of the gun store, Angela eyes peeked over, nerves jumping when a figure appeared directly in front of her. Crouched over the whiteboard he used, she realised it was Andy, though something was wrong with him. As he wrote something down, his body jerked harshly with every little movement, hands slapping against the board. It was only when he stood up, the crimson smeared whiteboard over his head, she saw the fresh blood staining his clothing and white eyes staring blankly ahead.

Dropping down low again, Angela clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her cries when Andy snarled ferociously, teeth snapping together. Hearing his feet shuffle closer to the roof edge, she pushed herself against the rough brick wall, trying to make herself as small as possible, praying he wouldn’t see her. He had stopped at the very edge, Angela concluded, judging from the drops of blood landing near her feet. Focusing on not moving a muscle in her body, she daren’t look up in case he noticed her.

“Angela!”

The blood drained from her face, her heart stuttering when she heard Nicole call her name, her chest suddenly heaving. Hearing footsteps hurry up the staircase, a zombified Andy hissed in the direction.

“There you are, Andy,” Nicole said, voice much louder when she entered the rooftop.

Hearing Andy’s boots skid across the concrete, letting out an inhumane screech, Angela jumped up from her hidden position and began climbing up.

“Nicole, run!”

Seeing an infected Andy charge towards her, Nicole screamed when she realised what he had become, running back down the stairwell with the monster only a few steps behind her. Pulling her body over the wall, Angela yelled for Andy’s attention, hoping to distract him in a bid to save the young girl. Stumbling over her feet to reach the stairwell, Chips bounding up the steps, whimpering as he ran past Angela. Glancing at the scared dog, she hesitated before hearing a loud crash below, taking the steps in two’s, her entire body pounding.

“Nico-” Angela's voice broke, halting at the foot of the stairs, her core becoming cold as she froze to the spot.

On the floor in the middle of the store, Andy crouched on top of Nicole, his teeth tearing into her throat. Tears brimming her eyes, Angela could only watch when Andy ripped a piece of flesh from her neck, tendons and muscles pulling and tearing. To her complete horror, Nicole’s head turned towards her, eyes pleading and a hoarse, gurgling sound came from the gaping hole in her neck, trying to gasp for breath. She weakly raised a trembling hand to her, blood spluttering from her opening mouth.

A sob hiccuped from Angela when she realised the girl tried to say ‘help me’, wishing she could end her tremendous suffering. Instead, she only alerted Andy of her presence, his head snapping up, bloodied mouth snarling when white eyes landing on Angela. Letting go of Nicole, her body landing in the pool of her own blood, Andy jumped like an animal for Angela, who began sprinting back up the stairs. Using all four extremities, the newly infected climbed the staircase with a wild hunger, Angela slamming the door a second before he hurled himself at it. Sliding the lock across, she forced her body against the door while he pounded his fists on the other side, furiously screaming.

Tears cascading down her face, she silently wept, arms splayed across the door, which jutted out with every bang from Andy. Slowly, Angela slid down to the floor, keeping her back firm against the door. Hitting the ground, she brought her knees up to her chin, letting her cries become muffled when she buried her face in her lap. A fury body joined her side, Chips nuzzling his head into her, whining along with her cries.

 _“Angela,”_ a static voice crackled.

Looking down at the dog next to her, she heard her name again coming from Chips' coat. Shaking hand reaching into one of the side pockets, Angela felt a hard object and pulled out the walkie-talkie.

_“Angela, answer me!”_

Taking a jittery breath, she held the device up to her lips, pressing the button. “CJ?”

_“You okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”_

“I’m okay,” she croaked out, voice just above a whisper, trying to calm herself.

 _“Angela, where's Nicole?”_ Michael's voice asked.

Feeling her throat tighten and face scrunch up, she let go of the button and cried out once more, the door rattling against her. Breathing becoming ragged, she brought the radio to her lips and tried to clearly form her words.

“Andy had turned into one – one of those… and Nicole – she tried to... he got her!” She broke out into fresh sobs, her body curling in on itself as the banging continued. On the other end on the line, she heard Terry crying out, his shouts of anguish causing more tears to fall from Angela's eyes. “I couldn't save her, I was too late – I’m so sorry!”

 _“I know, Angela, I know,”_ Michael sighed after a moment, Terry’s pained voice still present in the background. _“Can you get back to the truck?”_

Wiping her wet face, she shook her head, thinking how she had nearly been pulled down into the crowd. “No, no, I can’t go back down there, there’s too many of them down there.”

The silenced for several seconds. Waiting for a reply, Angela dug the heels of her sneakers into the ground when Andy gave a particularly hard shove, the door vibrating against her body.

 _“Angela, listen to me,”_ the radio said, this time CJ back on the line, _“just stay put, we're gonna’ think of a plan. You hear me?”_

The pounding and snarling from the other side of the door ceased, footsteps fading down the staircase. Thinking of what that monster was going to do back downstairs, the thought of Nicole still alive down there, dying an excruciating death and Angela could do nothing, another sob escaped her mouth.

Slapping her hand over her eyes, willing those horrible thoughts to leave her mind, she took a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I hear you.”

_“We’re coming to get you, Angela, don't you worry.”_


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.

The sun had set half an hour ago, the sky a deep black as the night settled in. Angela had been stuck on the roof for what she estimated was an hour and a half, listening to the constant sounds of the undead below, keeping her alert. Numbness spread through her legs long ago, feet planted firmly to the concrete; she hadn't moved from her place by the door, too scared to even move an inch with visions of Andy bursting through it invading her thoughts every minute, even though she hadn’t heard him since he disappeared downstairs. Chips laid in her lap, her fingers running through his silky fur, the only comfort for Angela. A slight chill lingered in the air and the canine was the only thing providing her warmth.

The walkie-talkie next to her crackled, a voice coming through. _“Angela?”_

Slowly untucking her arm from underneath Chips, she grabbed the radio, keeping her voice low as she answered, “CJ?”

 _“How are you hangin'?”_ he asked.

A small smile broke her lips; CJ had checked in on her every twenty minutes to make sure she was okay, or still alive. It was nice to hear his voice regularly, distracting her from the constant moaning and keeping her sane.

“Same as before,” she sighed, “although my ass is asleep from sitting on this goddamn floor.”

A picture of his amused smile flashed in her mind and he asked, _“is it still quiet over there?”_

Turning her head, Angela pressed her ear against the door, listening for any movement downstairs. When she couldn't hear anything but silence, she rested her head again and brought the talkie up to her mouth, “yeah, still quiet.”

_“Alright, well, we've got a plan. We're coming to get you.”_

“What, now?” she questioned, hunching forward, Chips suddenly alert in her lap. “How? The mall is completely surrounded by them things.”

 _“There’s an underground maintenance unit in the mall that leads to the sewers,”_ he explained, _“according to the map, the end sewer grate is just outside the gun store. We’ll sneak through and get in through the hatch.”_

“Shit, CJ, you’re out in the wide open down there, you’re gonna’ be totally exposed,” she said, running a worried hand through Chips fur.

_“I don't care, as long as I can get you out.”_

Angela couldn’t help but smile, a fuzzy feeling warming her stomach. However, the inhumane screeches from below brought her back to reality and her face dropped.

“But what if they all attack you?”

The line was silent for a few moments. _“It's a risk we're gonna' have to take.”_

Angela sighed, closing her eyes in frustration. “But-”

 _“Angela, listen to me,”_ CJ said, cutting her off, _“don’t worry about us, we'll be fine; we've got it figured out. Just be ready, okay?”_

Hesitating, Angela pushed the horrible thoughts from her mind, a hand rubbing across her face. “Okay.”

 _“Okay,”_ he repeated, _“see you in about fifteen minutes, sweet cheeks.”_

“See ya’,” Angela said, letting go of the button, “shit…”

Slipping the radio back in Chips' pocket, she once again pressed her ear against the door. Still hearing no movement from in the store, Angela pushed herself away from the door, ignoring how heavy her legs felt from not moving them. Slinking across the roof, her neck and shoulders ached terribly while she kept low to ground.

Peering over the brick edge, she looked down at the street, scoping at least a hundred shambling around the area of the gun store, some still clawing at the boarded windows. She spotted the sewer grid CJ had mentioned, which remained clear of those things for the time being.

When Chips sat next to her, licking her cheek, she scratched the top of his head. “Don’t worry, boy, they’re coming for us.”

After agonisingly waiting for what felt like hours, keeping her eyes on the sewer grid, Angela tensed when she saw it lift slightly. Slowly sitting up, feeling her fingertips tingle and the hairs on her neck stand, she watched the grid slide over, Michael’s head appearing from the manhole. Resting on her knees, her knuckles turned white and throat heavy when CJ climbed out next.

Eyes quickly darting to the undead, they were unaware of the group’s presence – for now.

A hand appeared from the hole, CJ pulling Terry out, Kenneth soon following with his shotgun ready. Angela concluded it was only the four attempting the dangerous mission to the store, since the they started to move away from the manhole. Taking lead, Michael crept close to the truck with his gun aimed ready, the others following in a line, Kenneth coming up the rear. Staying behind underground, Tucker slid the metal cover back over.

It dropped with an audible _thud_.

“Oh, shit,” Angela said when the nearby infected snapped their white eyes to the men.

Instantly raising his shotgun, Kenneth shot the first one that ran towards them, the four of them breaking into a sprint towards the cab of the truck. Michael stunned one in the knee, smashing its head with the truck door when he swung it open. Fingers digging painfully into the rough brickwork, Angela could only watch from above the dead swarming them, all four of them shooting at the crowd.

“Get in!” Angela yelled when CJ, who stood shooting while Michael crawled through the truck.

Heart thumping rapidly against her ribs, she watched CJ kill one more before jumping in, Terry scrambling in close behind. Kenneth remained shooting while he backed in, firing his last shot before an infected grabbed his gun, wrestling with it before finally pushing it away, losing his weapon in the process.

Looking down in the gap between the truck and the store, Angela seen CJ pushing Terry through the hatch, crawling in afterwards himself. Kenneth tumbled out the truck soon after, rushing to get through the hatch. Following him, a zombie grabbed his foot, trying to pull its mouth to his leg before Kenneth delivered a harsh boot to the face. Hearing the hatch door slam shut, Angela’s muscles turned to jelly, finally letting her lungs take in air again and she collapsed against the roof edge, her heartbeat rattling through her body.

After several seconds to let her nerves settle, she managed to stand, taking in another deep breath. Taking a few steps towards the door, a shot rang out from inside the store, Angela halting. When another shot followed, she squeezed her eyes shut, the image of Nicole laying in her blood invading Angela’s mind.

“Angela!”

Hearing her name broke her out of her stance, unlocking the bolt and pulling the door open, running down the stairs as quick as she could. At the bottom stood CJ, arms stretching out when he saw her, and Angela flung herself into him. Squeezing each other tightly like they hadn’t seen each other in years, CJ lifted her off the ground and pressed his lips hard against her cheek. With his strong arms holding her and his musky scent comforting her, she began crying into his shoulder.

“Don't ever fucking do that again,” he whispered, his hands cupping her face when he finally set her down, their foreheads pressing together, “ever.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking up at him, “I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t save…”

“I know,” he said, pressing his lips against hers when her voice quivered, wiping the tears trickling down her face, “I know.”

After the couple shared their tender reunion, Michael appeared next Angela, resting a firm hand on her shoulder with a sorrowful expression. Wiping her eyes, she returned a thankful nod. Over his shoulder however, she noticed Kenneth laying a tarp on the ground over two bodies. Walking towards him, she found Terry knelt on the floor, presumably over Nicole’s covered remains.

“I’m so sorry, Terry,” she whispered, voice wavering; she wanted to say more but was frightened that she would just start sobbing again.

Terry silently nodded, though his eyes didn’t move from the form under the tarp. Letting the young man grieve for his girlfriend, CJ ushered Angela to one of the counters where Kenneth and Michael were filling up a duffel bag with various weapons. Revealing her handgun, Angela gladly took it from his hands, feeling reassured to have the weapon back, sliding it in her holster.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the extra clips he offered to her, “I'm never leaving this around again.”

The group took advantage of the store, arming themselves with better weapons and replenishing their ammo, ready for venturing back outside. Peeking out the window through the cracks of the boards, Angela could only see groups of those things, the store and truck surrounded.

“There’s too many out there and they know we’re in here,” she said, turning back to the others.

“You got a plan?” Kenneth asked Michael.

“Uh-uh, you?” he asked, Kenneth giving the same response.

Placing a gas canister on the counter, a slight grin appeared on CJ’s face. “How ‘bout a barbeque?”

After briefly explaining his plan, CJ disappeared to the roof while the others waited patiently by the hatch, peering through the windows. Terry had waited till the last second to get ready, struggling to part with Nicole. Gripping her gun tightly, the seconds dragging by, Angela looking nervously at Michael.

“How will we know if it’s worked?”

When the words left her mouth, the sound of a deafening explosion roared through the air. A fiery red illuminated the inside of the store, Angela shielding her eyes from the blinding light, the building shaking violently around them. When the orange glow dimmed and the ground stopped moving, Kenneth didn’t hesitate as he pulled open the hatch door, gesturing for them to leave.

“Go, go, go!”

Michael was the first to crawl through, putting a bullet through the infected that screamed in his face on the other side. Angela followed suit, pushing past the dead body and climbing in the cab of the truck. Jumping down, Chips at her feet, she looked at the aftermath of the explosion; all the undead in the street were knocked down, the shockwave taking them out, most burnt to a crisp. Sparing only a second to look, Terry pulled her towards the sewer grid, Tucker appearing when he uncovered the manhole.

“Jesus Christ, what did you do?” he asked, looking around at the multiple bodies on the ground.

“No time, start firing!” Michael said, shooting a figure that began moving and Tucker lifted himself out. “Angela, down now!”

“Wait, CJ!” she said, taking a shot at a corpse that sat up, though Michael forced her down the manhole anyway.

“We’ll cover him, just go!”

Hands gripping the cold metal of the ladder, she shimmied down it, feet splashing in the inches of water. Ignoring the foul smell that tinged her nostrils, she moved aside for Michael, who slid down the ladder instead of using its steps.

“CJ, over here!” she heard Terry yell over a shotgun blast, “hurry up!”

Kenneth appeared next, disregarding the ladder and jumping straight down, landing with a tucked roll. Wanting to wait for CJ to come down, Michael instead ushered Angela away and towards a narrow passage, forcing her to duck under a pipe. Looking back towards the ladder, Terry safely down and following them, she saw CJ beginning to climb down, a momentary relief washing over her.

However, a scream came from above ground, CJ moving to the side when a body fell straight through, Angela hearing an audible crack of bones.

“My leg!" Tucker screamed, CJ jumping down next to him.

“The grid, we need to cover the manhole!” Angela yelled, but it was too late.

Before CJ could attempt to pull it back over, another body fell in, its screeches echoing through the tunnel before Kenneth shot it. The grid a lost cause, CJ jumped down, a second rotting corpse coming down with him.

“CJ!” Angela shrieked, Michael restraining her.

“Just run!” he replied, shooting it dead.

"What about Tucker?" Kenneth asked, shooting another infected that fell in.

"I've got him," CJ yelled, handing Tucker a pair of handguns and dragging him by the scruff of his shirt, "just go!"

When more bodies began falling, Michael started running, Terry and Angela close behind him. Glancing behind Kenneth, she could see CJ pulling Tucker along the ground as quick as he could, Tucker’s cries of terrors mixing with the howls of the undead following, shooting them. They ran through the narrow tunnels of the sewer, Angela’s body vibrating with gut-wrenching fear, her breathing loud and ragged, the blood pulsating through her veins.

Tucker released a sudden cry of pain, a single gunshot ceasing them before she heard CJ sprinting up behind Kenneth, the two of them firing more shots behind.

“Move it!!” Terry yelled when they exited the sewers, running up a single set of metal steps before coming up to a concrete stairwell, indicating they were back in the mall.

“Hurry, hurry!”

“Goddamn, Steve Markus!” Michael said when he reached the top, banging his fist on the locked door.

Angela joined him, her palm smacking the door. “Steve, come on!”

“Open the door! Open the door!” Terry yelled frantically, looking over the railing, hearing multiple footsteps coming closer.

“Steve!” CJ said through gritted teeth, he and Kenneth bounding up the stairs. “I’ll fucking kill him!”

Angela continued banging on the door with her aching fist along with Terry, hearing the cries of the undead enter the stairwell. Realising they were trapped, the group huddled close at the top of the stairs, Chips barking madly while Michael, CJ, and Kenneth aimed their shotguns down the stairwell. The first of the undead appeared, stopping halfway up the stairs, more piling up behind it. Angela looked down at them, horrified at the multiple pairs of blank eyes staring back.

After weeks of outside under the scorching sun, the infected looked more like walking corpses straight from a graveyard. Their skin had turned black, thick, green liquids oozing from their dried-up wounds. Bone began showing through where their flesh had rotted away, teeth brown and decaying. After an initial stand-off, as if sizing their meal, the first one lunged forward, Kenneth blowing its liquified brains out.

“Steve, open up!” Angela screamed, pounding the door with new resilience, “open the fucking door!”

For every monster they shot, another one took its place, the crowd inching further up the stairs. The horde so overwhelming, Angela began to lose hope, and for the first time in her life, prayed to God; praying for a quick death.

The door suddenly swung open, Michael swivelling his gun to its direction. Ana stood on the other side, expression switching from confused to panicked when she saw the crowd of infected making its way up.

“Let's go!” Michael yelled, grabbing her and running down the hallway.

Terry and Chips followed, Angela hurling herself through the door while CJ and Kenneth backed out, continuing to shoot into the stairwell.

“Come on!”

Backing all the way out, the two men tried to shut the door, but skeletal hands blocked them, pulling the door open. Whipping her gun out, Angela fired wildly through the open crack, trying to stop them from forcing the door. More hands appeared, CJ and Kenneth losing the battle as the door slowly forced open. CJ looked back at Angela, who was still shooting past the door.

“Angela, go!” he said, straining to close the door.

“Not without you,” she said, her hand reaching out to pull on the door as well.

After seconds of struggling, Kenneth stood back, cocking his shotgun. “Move!”

The couple let go, letting the door fling open and he fired his shotgun into the horde. Strong arms wrapped around Angela, CJ hauling her away from the door as Kenneth shouted.

“RUN!”

With the adrenaline coursing through her body, the moans and footsteps of the undead close behind them, Angela pushed her legs, her glutes and calves straining with every step. Sprinting through the dim hallways, they followed each other until they could see the entry arch for the mall, the escalators to the first floor up ahead.

“Keep moving,” Michael called, running up them, “we're going to have to take the buses!”

Angela panted, her lungs like ice as she sucked in deep breaths. “We’ve got no supplies on them!”

“It's the only way!”

Making it to the top, Angela dared to look behind at the horde as they rushed to the escalators, climbing over each other like animals, desperate for their warm flesh. Keeping her gaze forward, she focused on running when they rounded the corner, Hallowed Grounds coming into view. Sat at one of the tables, Glen and Monica suddenly stood hearing the commotion, panicking when they saw they’re group running towards them.

“Come on, guys, let's move it!” CJ yelled.

“What's going on?” Monica asked.

“Just run!” Angela said, grabbing Monica’s arm and forcing her to run.

“Go, go, go!”

When the infected bodies appeared, Glen hastily fell into a sprint along with the group, knocking over the table in his hurry. Leading everyone to the elevators, Michael slammed his fingers on the button, the doors sliding open. Everyone piled in, calling for CJ and Angela, who had fallen behind, to run faster.

Hearing the monsters so close behind her, Angela gritted her teeth as she and CJ dived into the elevator just before the doors closed, CJ hitting the wall while she landed against his chest. The doors sliding closed, one infected slammed against them, snapping his teeth through the gap when the doors sealed together, the elevator rumbling as it went down. Heavy and panic-ridden breathing filled the elevator over the low buzz of peaceful music, the anxiety thick in the air.

A smile appeared on CJ’s face and he looked up at the speakers, idly announcing, “I like this song.”

Everyone looked at him, clearly unamused while Angela buried her head in his chest, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Always on the bright side.”

When the doors opened in the garage, they continued running, not stopping since they didn't know how long it would be until the infected finally found their way down. Chips, who had managed to keep with the group the entire time, led the way, barking loudly. Coming down the last slope, Angela saw the two buses in the distance, a tall figure casually leaning against one with a cigarette in hand.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, feeling the anger bubble inside of her.

“Everybody in!” Michael said, opening the door to the first bus.

“Hey, there you are,” Steve said, a bewildered smile on his face. “What the hell happened to you guys?”

Angela squared up to him, shoving him harshly in the chest. “This is your fault!”

“Prick,” Ana spat hatefully, climbed past him into the first bus.

CJ marched up behind Angela, hitting Steve roughly in the shoulder. “I’ll deal with you later, motherfucker.”

Still glaring at the confused man, Angela accepted Ana’s helping hand, letting her pull her up in the bus. Michael slid in the driving seat, sticking the keys in the ignition as Chips jumped in, CJ closing and locking the door after the dog. Angela peered through the gaps into the second bus, Kenneth driving while Terry, Monica, Glen, and Steve prepared themselves in the back. Monica also looked out the bus, the two women sharing reassuring but scared smiles.

“Everybody ready?” Michael asked.

“We're all good in the back,” CJ replied, reloading his gun.

The bus roared to life when Michael turned the engine on, reversing out and leading the way with the snow plough on its front, the second bus following close behind. Feeling floor beneath her feet vibrate as they picked up speed, Angela held on to the overhead bar, staring ahead as they drove towards the parking shutters.

“Hold on!”

CJ wrapped an arm around Angela, also holding on the steel bar above them, both bracing themselves. The bus crashed through the metal shutters, Angela’s back hitting the side when they all jolted on impact. Opening her eyes however, she gaped with horror as they drove towards the sea of undead, hundreds of them running towards the buses. It felt like hitting a wall when they drove into the crowd, the bus slowing down considerably, completely submerged amongst the bodies. Bony fingers poked in through the grids, Angela aiming her gun, though the bus started swaying from side to side.

“We need to do something,” she said, shooting one that tried to scale the bus, “now!”

“CJ, now! Go!” Ana said, holding on when the bus tilted dangerously to one side.

Pulling a ladder out from under the storage bench, CJ stood it up, Angela holding it steady for him to climb up. Popping the hatch on the roof, he retrieved a gas canister and flare, taking them up with him. Angela looked up through the hole, watching him light the flare and attach it to the canister before throwing it into the crowd.

“Pass me the shotgun!”

Angela passed him the weapon, CJ quickly grabbing it before climbing up further to get a better shot. Feeling something brush her shoulder, Angela glanced behind her to find a hand reaching in towards her, the metal mesh on the windows flaying its skin. Trying to avoid the hand, she curved her back inwards, screaming up to CJ.

“Shoot, CJ, shoot!”

Hearing the shotgun blast, the gas tank exploded outside. The bus rocked back as the bright colours of yellow and red illuminated everything, CJ sliding down the ladder just in time, missing the ball of fiery heat invading through the roof hatch. Through the harsh light, Angela watched a tidal-wave effect take place, the crowds knocked down around the buses.

“Holy shit,” CJ whispered, Angela nodding in agreement, watching the amazing effect take place outside.

The tires squealed when Michael slammed on the gas pedal, the bus speeding away much easily through the cleared path. CJ put the ladder safe out the way while Angela continued to look outside, the Crossroads Mall becoming smaller the further they drove away.

Unexpectedly, her heart sank deep in her chest and her stomach ached. Tears welled in her eyes when the mall finally disappeared from her vision, the truck turning down a side street. Angela suddenly felt weird and she realised she had experienced this feeling a few times before; she was homesick.

The mall hadn’t just been a refuge for the past month, it had been Angela’s home. In just a short amount of time, a lot had happened that changed her life forever; she had made friends and countless memories, finding the love of her life, as well as losing many good people along the way.

“You okay?” CJ asked her, noticing her solemn expression.

“I just can’t believe we’re leaving like this, it doesn’t feel real,” she said, wiping her eyes before looking at him. “No one else was supposed to die; Nicole, Tucker, Andy, they should be on these buses with us right now.”

Taking in her words, he gently sighed and squeezed her shoulder, their heads resting together. “We can’t do anything about that now, we just have to focus on getting to that boat.”

Nodding her head, she looked back outside, the night sky fading to an early morning blue. They were currently driving through the back roads of the city, the streets eerily empty since they had outdriven the crowd back at the mall. Nothing was in sight, alive or dead. CJ was right, most of the city’s population had been gathered at the mall.

“Hard left! Hard left here!” Ana suddenly called out to Michael, pointing at the map.

Angela and CJ held on as the bus took a sharp turn, watching the second bus behind do the same behind them. However, it swerved too far too fast and smashed an abandoned car in the road. It lost control, the truck somehow mounting another car and drove it live a ramp, flipping on its side mid-air before crashing into an alleyway off the street.

“Holy fuck!” Angela exclaimed, watching the bus disappear from her sight.

“WHOA! Stop!” CJ yelled to Michael up front, banging his hand on the door, “stop, guys!”

The bus slowed down, Ana looking back with a confused frown. “What?”

“We lost them!”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 or 1978 film Dawn of the Dead; I own Angela and any other unfamiliar characters. WARNING! Rated T for violence, death, gory scenes, and any other adult content.
> 
> Just a quick note to say I really am overwhelmed with the support I have received for this story. I knew when writing this story that the fandom was only small, but I didn’t expect so many reviews and messages over the past few months! So once again, thanks to everyone who has been reading. Only one more chapter to go after this!

“Back it up, back it up!” CJ shouted, looking out through the window, “back up!”

Putting the bus in reverse, Michael backed up slowly until they reached the alleyway, seeing the damage caused. The second bus had skidded on its side for about fifteen feet before crashing into a wall, bricks sprawled over it. Angela and CJ looked at the overturned vehicle with silent alarm, Ana pulling out the walkie talkie.

“Kenneth, you there? Kenneth?” she asked, receiving no reply, “Kenneth, are you there?”

“We need to get them out before those things catch up to us,” Angela finally said, looking out to the empty street, which they knew wouldn’t be for long.

“Kenneth, you okay?” Ana asked once more, the walkie crackling in her hand.

After no reply, Angela heard CJ groan with frustration next to her, his shotgun pumping. When she looked at him, he was already sliding the metal bar out of its holder on the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking nursery school,” he muttered, kicking it open, checking the surrounding area before jumping out.

Pulling her gun out of her holster, Angela gave a disquieted glance to Michael and Ana before following CJ, her sneakers hitting the concrete. Feet still wet from the sewers, they squelched with every cautious step she took, eyes taking in her surroundings, hearing Ana’s own feet slap the ground behind her.

The streets were once chaotic, cars abandoned haphazardly in the roads while litter and personal belongings were strewn everywhere, Angela ignoring the bloody teddy bear she stepped over. It was eerily quiet, which only heightened her nerves. They crept around the over-turned bus, keeping low and quiet with their backs pressed against it, guns at the ready.

The roof hatch flew open, Angela jumping at the sudden noise, quickly following CJ to investigate. They found Kenneth climbing out, gritting his teeth painfully, his arms covered in grazes.

“CJ,” he called, throwing the bag of weapons, CJ catching and slinging it over his shoulder.

Angela rushed over to help Terry out the bus while Ana quickly checked over Kenneth, noticing the blood on him. Bracing one of Terry's arm over her shoulders, steadying him while he regained his balance, she helped ease him out the hatch, the young man taking in short breaths.

“Where’s Monica?” she asked, looking back at the hatch once Terry was out, only noticing the alarmed look on his face when he remained silent. “What?”

When Terry refused to answer, she left him leaning against the bus, her heart racing as she stalked back to the hatch. Before she could look through, Kenneth blocked her way, shaking his head.

“No, Angela” he said firmly. “Everyone's dead, Steve took off.”

Taking a few seconds to process those words, repeating them over in her mind, Angela’s body became numb. Pushing past him, Kenneth sighed sadly but didn’t stop her again, she looked inside, a sorrowful cry ripping from her throat at the sight.

Monica’s beautiful face looked away from Angela, but she didn’t need to see her cold eyes to know the woman was dead. Drenched in blood, her body lay in an awfully unnatural position, legs bent and arms splayed. The chainsaw imbedded in her stomach, her body had savagely been ripped open from the shoulder down, the inside of the bus sprayed with her blood. Next to Monica, Glen’s unmoving eyes stared up unfocused, his body lifeless, the back of his skull caved in and brain matter leaking out.

“Let’s go, c’mon!” CJ shouted, tugging Terry to head back to the bus.

Tears spilled from Angela’s eyes, bile threatening to rise to her throat before she was pulled away by Ana, who had also seen the horrific sight inside the bus. Nothing felt real, Angela’s body momentarily shutting down, just letting Ana drag her in a daze. Monica, sweet and caring Monica with the curly hair and red lips, the woman Angela had grown especially close with, was dead. Two more of the group, gone in an instant.

It wasn’t until a figure stumbled out from behind a car, blocking their path, that Angela recognised the person’s black shirt and pants.

“Steve?”

White eyes looked up at the two women, an infected Steve crouching low as a raspy cry came from his bloodied mouth.

“I got him,” Ana simply said.

Without hesitation, she raised her handgun and pulled the trigger. Head jerking backwards, blood and brain matter projecting on the car behind him, Steve slumped backwards and slid down to the floor.

“Damn,” Kenneth said at Ana’s bluntness, who had watched from behind them.

“Guess you kept that bastard’s promise then,” Angela muttered, snivelling as she glared down at the pathetic dead body.

A low screech ripped through the air once more, a lone infected jumped from behind the over-turned bus in front of CJ, who had stopped to watch Steve meet his demise. Before he could react, Terry ran past, shooting it in the head.

“Come on!” he yelled, running to the functioning bus ahead.

Not too far in the distance, the horde's close screams echoed down the streets, causing the group to run. Looking around from the alleyway, Angela saw the undead appearing around the corner up ahead, heading straight for them. However, Ana suddenly disappeared from her side, Angela skidding to a stop when the blonde ran back towards Steve’s corpse.

“Ana, what are you doing?” she yelled, looking between the woman and the oncoming dead crowd.

Angela couldn’t fathom why Ana had gone back, especially with the horde so close to them. Everything seemed to slow down, Angela torn on what to do; she could hear CJ calling her name, telling her to get on the bus, but she couldn’t leave Ana. They’d already lost more than enough of the group today, Angela just witnessing one of her close friend’s mangled body, and she couldn’t lose anymore.

Making possibly the stupidest decision, she ran after Ana, hearing the confused shouts from everyone else. Reaching the blonde, who was searching Steve’s pockets, she grabbed her under the armpits and yanked her away.

“Wait, no!” Ana shouted, struggling against Angela.

“We need to leave now!” she yelled, dragging her towards the bus.

“Hurry!” Michael yelled, CJ and Terry shooting at the crowd.

Only a few feet away from the undead, Angela hauled Ana to the bus door, pushing her into Michael’s arms. CJ stuck his hand out for Angela, pulling her inside when another hand grabbed her leg. Feeling the cold, decrepit flesh of the infected being, she screamed when it tried to pull her back out to the hungry mob, more filthy hands reaching for her. Clinging desperately to CJ, Michael stuck his shotgun out, delivering a fatal blast that rattled Angela’s ears. Feeling the grips loosen on her legs, CJ finally pulled her inside, the two tumbling to the floor.

“Go!” Terry yelled to Kenneth in the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut.

Still feeling the dead hands on her, like their touch had burned her skin, Angela frantically pulled her jeans up. In her state of panic, she began hyperventilating, checking her bare skin for any sign of injury.

“Have I been bit, have I been bit?” she cried manically.

“Angela, look at me!” CJ said, grabbing her shaking hands and forcing her to calm down. “There’s nothing there, you’re fine! You haven’t been bitten!”

Standing above them, Michael angrily shook Ana by the shoulders, in disbelief at the stunt she had just pulled, possibly endangering everyone.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked her, his anger morphing into worry.

“The keys!” she finally said, pushing him away and breathing heavily. “The keys to the boat – Steve’s got them, and I was trying to grab them!”

Silence fell over the bus, the realisation hitting them all. Breathing levelling out, Angela let her head fall back against the bus, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty since she had stopped Ana. Mouth in a tight line, Michael exhaled loudly through his nose, eyes squeezing tight in frustration while he rubbed his forehead.

“Jesus Christ,” CJ muttered, fist hitting the floor of the bus.

“What are we going to do now?” Terry asked, panic in his voice.

After several moments, Michael stood straight, moving to the front of the bus behind Kenneth, looking out through the windshield.

“We stick with the original plan.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that without the goddamn keys?” asked CJ, helping Angela stand up in the moving bus.

“We can’t start the boat without them keys,” Ana added.

“We can.”

When all eyes flicked to Michael, who turned back around to the group, he hesitated before explaining. “I used to work on boats – building them and taking them apart; it was one of my jobs.” The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly. “I’m pretty sure I can hotwire it.”

“You’re pretty sure you can?” CJ repeated sceptically.

Michael stared directly at him, nodding his head. “I can hot wire it.”

The tension seemed to disappear, Angela beginning to chuckle with disbelief. “You got anymore tricks up your sleeve?”

They continued to drive for another half a mile before the back entrance of the marina came into view, the chain link gates locked tightly; Angela hoped that meant the marina was clear of those things. Kenneth put his foot down, the bus gradually picking up speed as they neared the gates. Everyone braced themselves against the sides of the bus, Angela holding onto CJ.

“Hold on!”

Crashing through the gates, flattening the fences with ease, the bus vibrated as they drove over the rocky surface. Still maintaining a dangerous speed, Kenneth swerved through the entrance, avoiding cars and boats before mounting the bus straight on the dock. The front of the large vehicle smashed through the wooden planks, tipping forward and landing harshly in the shallow water hard.

Jerking forward, Angela lost her grip and hit her head on the safety bar in front of her, collapsing to the floor. Plunged into darkness, her vision was blurry the next time she opened her eyes, sharp pains shooting across her head. Sensing people moving around her, someone knelt next to her and called her name, but it sounded far away, like she was under water.

“Angela! Angela get up!”

Head spinning, her eyes finally landed on CJ in front of her, trying to get her on her feet.

“CJ, come on!” she heard Kenneth shout, “just carry her!”

“Do it, man! We'll catch up!” Arms hitched under her shoulders, CJ hoisted her up on her feet, supporting her weight. “Come on, Angela, we need to go now!”

“My head…”

The world came crashing down around her, bringing a hand up to caress throbbing pain in her head, though her eyes focused again. Looking at CJ, bus trying to help her to the door, her head then swayed to the left, looking outside. From the path they had just driven through, emerging around the trees and boats, the first few undead from the hoard ran towards the bus.

“CJ!”

Following her terrified eyes and seeing the crowd coming towards them, he let go of Angela and pumped his shotgun. “Shit!”

Backing away from the open door, CJ shooting the infected that closed in on them, Angela frantically looked around the bus for another escape route. Spotting the emergency side door, she pulled the lever to open it, only to realise it was stuck, the impact of the crash denting it inwards.

“The door's jammed!” she yelled, eyes wide with fear.

“Fuck!” he growled, dropping his empty shotgun and pulling out two handguns from his belt.

The monsters fought each other to jump in the bus first, CJ barely keeping them at bay, though Angela saw more flowing into the marina, a never-ending crowd of them swarming the bus. Feeling a cold draft hit her, Angela suddenly looked up, eyes landing on the empty hole in the roof.

“The hatch, CJ!”

Sparing a quick glance up to it, still shooing the infected piling up at the door, he then kicked the large propane tank that stood next to them.

“Angela, light a flare and attach it,” he said, managing to throw a flare at her from his belt.

Catching the red stick, a bewildered expression wrinkled her face. “What? CJ, we need to go now!”

“Just do it then get out!” he yelled, shooting a zombie that jumped in the bus, the rest attempting to climb over it.

Popping the cap, the spark sizzled in her hand, Angela shoving it through the handle of the tank. Having no time to pull the ladder out, she kicked over a crate and stood on it, jumping up to the hatch. Fingers latching on the metal edge of the roof, Angela groaned dangled for a second, kicking her legs to give herself momentum. Slamming her hands flat against the roof, her arms strained when she finally pulled herself up and out. Rolling on her stomach, she tuned back to the hatch stuck her arm back inside, looking at CJ, who had backed further into the bus. 

“Grab my hand!”

“Angela, just go – shit!” he exclaimed, the empty clip from one of his guns dropping to the floor.

Without hesitation, Angela pulled her gun out, leaning her torso in and began shooting, killing one that got too close to CJ.

“I’m not leaving without you!” she yelled.

“There's too many of them,” he glanced up through the hatch, Angela seeing no fear but determination in his eyes, “just go now!”

However, the same determination sparked in her eyes, and she fired at another infected. “Don't be fucking stupid; grab my hand and I'll pull you up!”

“Angela, listen-”

“Dammit, CJ, you listen to me!” she yelled, voice rough against her tight chest. “I am not leaving without you, I am not leaving on that boat without you, I will not leave you here to sacrifice yourself like some fucking hero movie! I'll jump back into this goddamn bus if you don't grab my fucking hand right now!”

Brown eyes meeting green, faces dripping with sweat, their breaths caught in their throats, they both held each other's gazes for a split second, but that was all it took. A split second to see the fight in each other, the will to keep each other safe. A split second to see love reflecting in their eyes, engrained deep within them. A split second for CJ to realise if he stayed in the bus, Angela would jump back in with him. 

A figure jumped in the door, a hungered howl ripping from its throat before charging at CJ.

“NOW!”

Shooting the infected, CJ stood on the crate, jumping up to grab Angela's hands. Fingers digging in his forearms, groaning through her teeth, she began pulling him up. In the bus below, the infected spilled into the bus, one of them grabbing CJ’s legs.

“Shit!” he hissed, trying to kick it away.

Tensing her jaw, Angela strained to pull him up, arms moving to his upper body for better leverage. Before it sank its teeth into his flesh, CJ stuck his gun down next to him, shooting it through the mouth just as Angela found the strength to haul him up. They landed in a heap on the roof, Angela flat on her back with CJ on top of her. For a few seconds they laid there, the adrenaline coursing through their veins, chests heaving in sync.

“Don’t ever pull that shit on me again,” Angela finally moaned, rubbing her palm over her eyes.

Breathing heavily, CJ shook his head with a small smile, though the moment was interrupted when decaying hands reached out through the hatch. The couple staggered to their feet, looking down through the hatch, the bus filled to the brim with the things. They surrounded either sides of the vehicle, even splashing through the water, Kenneth and Terry still shooting from the end of the dock while Michael tried to start the boat.

“CJ, Angela, hurry!” Ana yelled, watching anxiously from the boat.

Still looking down the hatch, the red spark only just visible through the bodies, CJ gripped Angela’s hand hard.

“When I say jump, you jump,” he said, aiming his gun down.

“What?”

“JUMP!”

Before Angela could comprehend what was happening, CJ shot into the bus, the gas canister exploding inside. They both jumped, but the impact of the explosion sent Angela up through the air, heat consuming her whole body. The sound of the explosion thundered in her ears while she soared over ten feet away, landing on the wooden dock, covering her head as her body hit the planks harshly.

When the third explosion Angela had experienced in just mere hours simmered, she cracked opened her eyes. Slowly lifting her head from her arms, she gasped for breath, inhaling the thick clump of black smoke that rose into the air. A high-pitched ringing vibrated her ears, her vision blurry due to the smoke irritating her eyes. Pain pulsed through her body, heat flowing through her veins, and she could feel wood and metal splinters prickle her skin, dots of blood seeping into her clothes.

Fire crackled from the bus, or what was left of it – a burnt-out shell, pieces of metal projected everywhere. The explosion has blown up the dock, preventing anything from crossing over. It had also blown up the surrounding undead bodies, disintegrating them as well as knocking down the rest that continued to pour into the marina.

Someone crouched next to her, CJ’s bruised and ash-covered face invading her sight. “You okay?” he asked.

Regaining the feeling in her arms, she pushed herself up, CJ helping her when she coughed hoarsely. “You asshole, you could have warned me.”

“I did,” he said, his usual grin appearing, tinged with pain, “I said jump.”

Hands wrapping around his neck, Angela couldn’t help the small chuckle as she let him pull her up to her feet. However, when they tried to walk, her legs wobbled before giving way, Angela stumbling over.

“My legs,” she gasped, face pinching in agony.

Kenneth ran up to them, grabbing one of Angela's arms and slinging it over his shoulder, CJ doing the same with the other. They hoisted her up, taking her weight off her legs, carrying her along the dock to the boat. CJ huffed painfully while he ran, body also aching from the blast, but managed to make it to the boat with Angela.

“Holy shit, are you two okay?” Terry asked, slightly in shock but helping Angela on the boat.

“Yeah, just a few bruises,” she tried to laugh, though it came out as a wheeze.

CJ stepped up after her, he and Terry carrying her to the seats at the back, Kenneth helping Michael with starting the boat. Setting her down on the plush leather seats, Terry went to untie the boat from the post while CJ knelt in front of Angela, inspecting her injuries.

“You've got some burns on your legs,” he said, hands ghosting over the raw flesh.

Letting her head roll back against the head rest, Angela only smiled lazily, her hands reach out to him. “I don't care, just as long as you're here.”

“And you might have a concussion,” he said, though he smiled along with her, his hand brushing her face.

Hearing the engine grind and moan, rusty after being not in use for quite some time, a loud rumble suddenly vibrated underneath them and the boat stuttering to life. In perhaps a rare and long-awaited moment of ecstasy, Michael clapped his hands with a laugh before embracing Kenneth, the latter displayed a pure smile on his face. The former cop then took to the steering wheel, Michael joining the others.

“She's running!”

“Good, then let's get the fuck out of here,” CJ said, grinning widely up at the ecstatic man.

The boat slowly started moving forward away from the dock, beginning to gently rock as it sailed over deeper water. Terry sat down next to Angela, giving her a bottle of water from a mini fridge on the top deck while Ana appeared next to CJ, inspecting her leg injuries.

“Thanks,” she croaked, sipping the much-needed refreshment.

“I need to clean this up,” Ana said, beginning to rip away the ruined jeans, Angela hissing in pain. “Terry, can you see if there’s a first aid kit on board?”

When the young man disappeared down the lower deck, CJ took his place next to the woman he loved, brushing her hair away from her moist face. Resting her head on his shoulder, Angela looked out at the ocean, letting the sunrise wash over her, finally feeling at peace.

“We made it, we really made it,” she whispered.

“I told you we would, didn’t I,” CJ said, his arm resting around her shoulders, taking her hand in his other.

“Where do we go now?” Terry asked, returning with a green box in his hands for Ana.

Michael smiled, leaning against the railing, also looking out to the horizon as they sailed further away from the dock, away from the horde of wailing monsters, away from the nightmare they had endured.

“Anywhere we want.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the 2004 film Dawn of the Dead and this story has no official ties with the film; this is a work of fan fiction. I do not receive any payment or any other type of gain from this fan fiction. All rights belong to Strike Entertainment and New Amsterdam Entertainment, as well as Universal Pictures.
> 
> Author’s note at the end!

Sea water lapped softly at the boat, causing it to continuously rock back and forth slowly. The air was thick with humidity with the sun resting in the clear sky. Angela laid across the white leather seats and stared aimlessly into the sky, tongue like sandpaper when she licked her dry lips.

After they set sail from the dock, Angela began complaining about the searing pain in her legs. Upon closer inspection by Ana, it was revealed that she had first and second degree burns on her legs from the truck explosion. With only limited medical supplies on the boat, there was not much Ana could do for her and after two days, an infection began spreading through Angela's legs. Unable to move her legs much, she was stuck on the seats, relying on CJ to help her if she wanted to get around the boat.

Along with the infection came many side effects, Angela suffering from a fever and chills, as well as feeling lethargic. Delusions plagued her at night, warping her dreams into nightmares, rotting, white-eyed monsters tearing her limb from limb. She hadn't had a decent night sleep, as did no one else on the boat, since her screams always woke everyone up.

Five days the group had been on the boat and hope was dwindling fast.

On the first day, emotions were high since everyone thought they had finally made it to safety. Worry began settling in on the second day when they realised how little food and clean water they had, having abandoned everything in the rush to make it to the buses. Fear took over on the third day when they recognised they had drifted into the middle of the ocean with no land in sight, though everyone tried to show confidence on the outside, especially Michael.

Moral had been boosted yesterday though when Ana saw something in the distance. Deciding to investigate, Kenneth steered the boat towards to the floating object, which turned out to be an abandoned fishing boat. No one among the group thought about why no one was on the small boat; everyone was eager to see if the vessel possessed any water or supplies. Pulling up next to it, Michael and CJ boarded, finding dried blood and an ice box. Instead of food and water like everyone was hoping, the upper torso of a man was inside, arms cut off and innards spilling out. Maggots feasted at the frozen flesh when it opened its white eyes, yellow teeth snapping and snarling at the group. Kenneth shot it in the head, the group leaving the boat with hopes at an all-time low.

With Nicole's absence hitting Terry hard, he had kept himself busy with a camcorder he had found on the first day, documenting the groups journey. It wasn't a pleasant moment when the group found Steve's homemade porn when they were looking back on the footage. Even though most of the group found Terry recording every single moment annoying, Angela encouraged him, telling him he could turn it into a movie once the outbreak was over and they'd all be millionaires; he liked that idea.

CJ suddenly appeared by Angela's side, putting a bottle to her lips and raised her head slightly with his other hand.

“Here,” he murmured, “you need to keep drinking.”

Angela took small gulps, trying to be sparring. When he took the bottle away, she sighed with relief, her dry lips now moistened again.

“Thanks,” she whispered, "how much we got left?"

CJ averted his eyes to the floor, shaking his head. Closing her eyes, Angela exhaled loudly through her nose before her face suddenly cringed in pain. Chips, who stayed with them on the boat also, whined and nuzzled into her stomach, sensing the woman’s discomfort.

“What is it?” CJ asked, brushing her hair away from her slicked forehead, feeling she was burning up again.

“My leg...” she said, voice breaking when a hot flash of pain spiked through her right leg.

“I'll get some pills,” he reassured her, grabbing the first aid kit from under the seats.

Trying to breathe through the pain, Angela kept her eyes closed and focused on her surroundings instead of her legs. Hearing the clicks of the first aid box being opened, she then listened to CJ rummage through the supplies, the plastic pain relief bottle top popping open.

“Fuck...” he suddenly whispered.

Angela frowned, hearing the worry in his voice. “CJ?”

“Fuck!” he repeated louder, Angela opening her eyes to see him throwing the bottle on the floor in anger.

“What's wrong?”

“There's no more pills!” he exclaimed, his hard eyes glaring at the empty bottle before looking over to Ana. “Did you know this?”

The blonde, who sat with Michael at the front of the boat, kept her stare out towards the ocean. “She took the last ones this morning.”

“And you didn't think to tell anyone?” CJ questioned accusingly.

“And do what?” Ana said, finally turning her gaze to him, “it's not like we can get some more from anywhere else.”

Gritting his teeth in anger, his thumb and finger pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, what are we supposed to do now, doc?”

“I don't know!” Ana snapped, voice raising.

“CJ,” Angela suddenly sighed, attempting to sit up to stop the argument.

The boat fell silent, CJ and Ana glaring at each other before he returned to Angela's side, pushing her back down so she was lying flat again. Snatching the water bottle from the floor, he began feeding it to Angela again, this time forcing her to take bigger gulps. Michael watched when the bottle became half empty.

“Hasn't she had enough,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

Taking the bottle away, CJ slowly looked at the tired man, anger hinted in his expression. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Michael sighed, shaking his head. “Look, CJ, we're already low on water and it's not going to help if you keep wasting-”

“Wasting?” CJ snarled, the water in the bottle swirling, his hands shaking. “Angela's sick. We've already ran out of the fucking pills, so she needs to keep hydrated.”

“Yeah, well, so do we,” Michael replied.

“What?”

“Angela's not the only one suffering on this boat. We're all in the same position here.”

“You're not the one with a fucking infection and goddamn fever!”

“But we're all thirsty and with little water-”

“Little water? Look around you, we're surrounded by water for fucking miles!” CJ shouted humorously, his arms gesturing to the never ended blue sea around them. “And who's bright idea was this again?”

“You know what I mean,” Michael muttered.

“No, I don't know what you mean because to me, it sounds like you would rather Angela die just to save some water!” CJ snapped.

“Oh, for God's sake!” Ana yelled, exasperatedly throwing her hands up in the air.

“No one is saying that,” Michael said, a hand coming up to rub over his forehead.

“Guys...” Terry sighed from the back corner of the boat.

“Really, ‘cause it sure fucking does to me!”

Covering her ears from the growing angry voices, Angela squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the arguing. The pounding in her head sent her dizzy and the pain in her legs flared up again, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

“EVERYBODY, STOP!”

Stunned by Kenneth’s booming voice, the arguing ceased and everyone looked over at the burly man. Hands firmly on the steering wheel, he scolded the group with a deep scowl, lips raised over his teeth.

“Knock it off.”

When he turned back to steering, shame fell thick over the boat, realising how they had been acting in such a desperate time. Casting his eyes down, CJ sat down next to Angela, putting her head in his lap and running a soothing hand along her arm. Ana shook her head, moving away to sit on the other side of the boat alone. Michael sighed, looking around at everyone.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting back down, glancing at the sick woman, “I'm sorry, Angela.”

Angela could only nod her head silently, too exhausted to say anything. Chips circled for a moment before crawling underneath the seats she laid on, licking her hand when she stroked him softly.

For the next few hours, the boat remained silent, no one speaking to each other. Kenneth and Michael took shifts steering the boat aimlessly. Ana had remained alone on the far side of the boat while Terry sat in the corner, recording what he could on the camera. CJ sat with Angela while she drifted in and out of sleep, her body burning up then turning ice cold, her condition worsening without the help of the pills.

Pointing the camera away from the back of the boat, Terry began recording ahead of the boat, his face bored. Staring into the lens, his eyebrow quirked until he suddenly frowned. Looking above the camera, he squinted into the distance before zooming the camera, looking through the lens again.

“Holy shit...” he whispered.

“What is it?” Ana asked, noticing Terry’s change of demeaner.

“I think I see something,” he replied, looking away from the camera once again, pointing just off-centre ahead of the boat. “What's that?”

Following where he pointed, the group squinted through the light sea mist. A dark outline of something tall and large could be seen, and when they steered closer after a minute, they realised it was trees – a forest. Sailing through the wall of mist, the beginning of an island came into view, a very large island with a wooden dock.

“Oh, my God,” Michael said, standing from his seat.

Hearing everyone’s surprised voices, Angela woke up, head lolling to the side tiredly. “What? What is it?”

“It's a goddamn island,” CJ replied with wide eyes, his hands unconsciously tightening around her.

Pushing her body up to rest on the side of the boat, Angela looked at the island through half-lidded eyes. Mist still surrounded the tops of the tall and dark trees, blocking rays of sunlight, making it almost impossible to see further into the island. Angela noticed it was eerily silent, no sound of life on it; not even birds in the trees.

“Pull up on the dock,” Michael said to Kenneth, walking to the very front of the boat.

A thrill of amazement ran through the group, Terry still filming with his camera while CJ adjusted Angela from his lap, taking a closer along with Ana. However, the more Angela stared at the seemingly deserted island, an uneasy ball formed in the bit of her stomach.

“Grab something,” Kenneth ordered when they neared the dock, picking up his shotgun.

“CJ, I don't like this,” Angela whispered, a hand pressing against her temple when she felt an oncoming headache.

Grabbing a shotgun from the bag of weapons, the only supplies they had on the boat, CJ knelt in front of her, running a soothing hand through her damp hair. “It’s alright. We’re gonna’ be careful… but this place is in the middle of nowhere. It's taken us nearly a week to find it, we’re miles away from land, away from those things.”

The boat nudged against the wooden dock and she glanced towards the thick mass of trees, feeling the hairs prick on the back of her neck.

“CJ, I think-”

“Look, we're just gonna' check it out, okay? We need food and water, and you need medical attention,” he said, his hand brushing down to her face when it tinged with pain, “this could be the place we need, Angela.”

When the worry still shook her body, he sighed and kissed her forehead, letting his lips rest against her clammy skin.

“Just stay here for me, okay? We’ll be careful.”

The boat jolted when it came to a stop alongside the dock, Kenneth cutting the engine, a dreadful silence surrounding them. While CJ tried to calm Angela’s nerves, everyone else had prepared themselves; Kenneth and Michael also armed themselves with a shotguns, Terry and Ana choosing handguns. Kissing her once again, CJ stood and joined the others at the front, leaving Angela resting on the seats.

Stilling for a few moments, hearing nothing but the waves rocking the boat, Kenneth climbed over the railings and stepped on the dock. CJ and Terry followed, Michael helping Ana until all of them stood on the wooden planks. Again, they stood quiet for brief period, listening for any signs of life, or death. Angela watched intently, her headache only worsening and a wave of sickness hitting her stomach.

Chips, who had laid hidden under the seats, stood startled, his ears pointing up and head cocking. Edging out from his hideaway, he stared out to the island before whimpering, turning to jump at Angela, pawing at her thighs.

“Chips,” she said, shakily pushing the dog away from her injured legs, though she paused when she looked into the dog’s worried eyes, “what's wrong, boy?”

The dog only whined, though when the group made their first steps across the dock, daring to explore the opening of the forest, he jumped down and released a sudden bark.

“Chips!” Terry hissed, turning to glare at the animal.

However, Chips didn't stop, his barking becoming loud and frantic, eyes trained on something amongst the trees. Attempting to shush the dog, Angela leant forward to grab him, only to quickly brace herself when a hot spike ran through her legs. Biting her lips to stop her cries, she felt like the boat was tipping, another wave of nausea washing over her, her vision spinning.

“Angela, shut that fucking dog up!” Ana said harshly, trying to keep her voice low.

The barking rang in Angela’s ears and rattled inside her head, making her headache worse, feeling like she was taking repeated blows to her skull. Pain blinding her, she didn’t witness Chips run across the boat and jump on the dock. Terry tried to stop him, but Chips strayed past him and bolted straight into the forest, his barks fading away.

Trying to clear her sight by blinking rapidly, Angela felt her stomach drop and the bile rising in her throat, gripping the railing for support when the scenery around her danced painfully. The gentle rocking of the boat felt like a rollercoaster ride, her limbs suddenly feeling light and airy. The world around her felt far away, her perception of reality becoming skewed.

“What was that?”

Michael’s voice was distant, something thundering in Angela’s ears. Through half-lidded eyes, she saw the trees on the island tremble, bushes swaying rapidly. Bodies moved in between them, groans becoming louder.

“Stay behind me!”

Angela was sure it was Kenneth yelling.

Heart pounding too fast against her ribs, she could feel the blood pumping through her veins. The burning in her legs intensified, like fire licking her flesh. Gunshots and screams echoed around her, Angela trying to focus her swimming vision. White eyes, hundreds of them emerging from the depths, rotting bodies running towards them, swarming like an infestation.

CJ? Where’s CJ?

Terry appeared on the boat, trying to start the engine. Shooting as many infected as he could, Kenneth shouted over to Michael, who shot wildly into a large huddle of those things that amassed on the floor. A blood-curdling scream sliced through the air. Before she could find CJ, Angela collapsed against the seats, eyes staring up at the sky. Bright blue turned black, her breathing short and shallow as everything started fading around her; she tried calling out before she lost consciousness.

 

Opening her eyes, the blue sky returned. The rumble of the engine was absent, the boat rocking gently with the water. Vision slightly blurry, it took Angela a moment to gather her bearings, her memory blank. The island flashed through her mind, a horde of undead running from the trees, the gunshots firing in her head. When everything came back to her, not being able to find CJ before she lost consciousness, a terrified gasp chocked her throat.

“I’m here.”

A hand swept across her forehead, the voice a tired whisper.

Tilting her head back, now realising it was resting in someone’s lap, her eyes focused on CJ’s worn and sunken face above her. A sheen of sweat caked his grimy skin, black and green fluids splattered on his clothes. A putrid smell mixed with gun powder burned Angela’s nostrils.

“You were out cold for about an hour,” he said, staring at her confused face. “The engine’s fucked, barely made it off that island.”

Brown eyes momentarily flicked away, Angela recognising the strained expression CJ made, knowing he was holding something back. Turning her head, she swept her gaze across the boat. Terry sat on the floor at the rear, his knees up to his chest, his face buried in them. Kenneth stood at the steering wheel staring out to the ocean, though his hands stayed by his sides. Sat alone on a padded bench, Michael’s shoulder’s slumped forward, his head in his hands and elbows on his knees – he was completely covered in the black substance, though patches of bright red stained his clothes. Ana was nowhere in sight.

Turning her head back, Angela stared up at the sky, feeling hollow. Mouth parched, she inhaled a raspy breath. 

“What now?”

A long and tense silence followed her question, feeling CJ’s body deflate beneath her.

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s it, that’s the final chapter and conclusion to this story! God, this was such a painful chapter to write, but I wanted to keep it along the same lines as the film. Although Angela and CJ didn’t die at the island, their fate is left unknown…
> 
> On a lighter note, I just want to say a big massive THANK YOU to everyone that has supported this story! This fandom is very small, practically non-existent at this point, so the amount of love this story has gotten is so overwhelming. I’m so glad all of you have seemed to have enjoyed it!
> 
> However, remember I mentioned I might add a separate chapter for Angela and CJ’s smut and possible tid-bits? Well I got some feedback from some of you on both FF.NET and AO3, and it seems you liked the idea! So, even though the story itself is completed, over the next couple of months I’ll be adding chapters that contain Angela/CJ smut as well snippets of the two doing normal stuff in the mall (stuff that I couldn’t really include in the story).
> 
> So, thank you all again, and make sure to keep an eye out for the extra chapters for bonus content!


End file.
